Key West Blues
by SallyJetson
Summary: Was it ever really real? Picks up after the episode titled 'Right Next Door'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Haven't a clue where this one is going but angst is always good for the muse so here goes.

**Key West Blues**

**Prologue**

It had been a long day of pain, piled upon an even longer month of pain – blinding, cutting, pain

And more pain when she had said what she'd said. And why had he done what he'd done when she had said it – just look at her, watch her walk away. He didn't even know.

Later on, he'd tried to do the right thing, had said he was sorry, that they needed to talk. She'd merely said, "Sure, later." Her manner so calm, her tone so cool like she already decided that they were over. Like whatever he had to say wouldn't make a difference, like he shouldn't even bother. And fear had replaced pain ... or maybe just revealed it.

Now he stood at his open locker, one hand pressed to the hard, cold metal of the adjacent locker, the other palming the sharp edge of his door, feeling neither cold nor sharpness, staring into the black recesses of the locker, wondering what it was he even wanted.

Fuck that. He knew what he wanted. He wanted the pain to go away.

* * *

He hadn't been himself since Ruben had died. She'd understood his closing off, had stood by patiently, waiting, hoping, that he'd turn to her for support when he was ready, that she'd mean as much to him as he meant to her.

But when he'd finally started interacting with her again it had been in a lighthearted manner like nothing had ever happened and it had felt wrong. But she'd gone along with it, giving leeway, even teasing him when he forgot her birthday, although she could understand why he would forget it. After all she understood grief and pain and loss. But maybe she just didn't understand him.

Therefore she'd been resolute after he'd turned her down for lunch. It wasn't the isolated incident but the whole month of incidents that had led her to her decision and she needed a clean break – to move on.

She'd rehearsed it ten different ways a hundred times over until she felt she could say it without caving into emotion. And after she had said it, she'd walked away when she'd seen his face – a face that said he hadn't a clue.

Anything he had said after that had been tarnished and insincere.

All she wanted now was for the pain to go away.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N1:** First off a very special thank you to **MariaLisa** for her guidance and discussion on this chapter. In a way this chapter is for her.

**A/N2: **Secondly thank you every one for the reviews, the discussion, putting the story on alerts, because I'm writing this for therapy as much as anything and I hope you get something like that from it as well.

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 1**

"I just have two questions for you, Danny."

He gripped the locker door tighter but didn't turn to face her, couldn't face her. He hadn't expected the talk to come quite so soon. He thought she'd be long gone since their shift had ended over an hour ago.

--

The two questions had been burning in her mind ever since his clueless look, followed by his weak apology and we need to talk comment. But dammit! If only she could get her legs to support her long enough to verbalize them and hear the answers.

Without preamble. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes." Flat, no hesitation.

She'd half expected it but still the punch to the gut almost sent her looking for a toilet. But she steadied herself and swallowed hard because she had to ask the next question even if the answer could actually bring her to her knees.

--

He heard her quivering inhale before she asked.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

He dropped his hands to his side, balling them into fists, head tilting back to look at the ceiling, hoping to keep the tears at bay. Maybe it was better this way. Just let the hounds of hell loose to do their damage.

"Yes."

He heard a small sob followed quickly by a sharp cough. But he knew he couldn't leave it this way no matter what he might have been thinking for the past month – that he'd never wanted to have this conversation with her. That it would be easier if he could ignore her and she would eventually give up and go away – leave him alone.

So he turned.

"Lindsay, we need to talk."

--

She shook her head mutely as the tears began to fall. And for the second time that day she was mad at herself. Mad because she didn't want to cry in front of him. Didn't want to show him how much he had hurt her when it was becoming painfully obvious he cared so little for her. But she couldn't help it. God himself couldn't have kept the emotion at bay at this point. She'd just have to blubber through it because she was going to have her say and be done with it once and for all.

"Talk? You want to talk now? You didn't even have enough respect for me to break it off with me first when you realized you had feelings for her and certainly before you slept with her. And you want to talk, now?"

--

He didn't know if it was her tears, the anguished look in her eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her chest or the accusatory tone in her voice but whatever it was, it caused him to step around the bench and slap a hand on the locker behind her head.

She flinched, but her jaw clenched and she stood her ground, staring him hard in the face.

"Lindsay, god dammit, it just happened!"

She laid a sting across his cheek that finally unleashed the tears pooled in his eyes.

"You bastard. How clichéd can you get? Just because you have feelings for her that makes it okay to treat me–and her–with so little respect that you'd lie to both of us?"

--

His placed his other hand on the locker effectively blocking her in, his head drooping close to her face. She felt his warm breath on her neck as she turned her face away. The jagged edges in his voice cut at her as he pleaded.

"Lindsay."

--

"I'm done talking, Danny."

And she ducked under his arm and walked out of the locker room.

--

**A/N3: **And thirdly I'm not finished yet. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 2**

He knew who he needed to talk to and he needed to do it tonight! Within a half an hour, he was at her door. After the third knock and a calling of her name, he heard the bolt turning but not the chain slipping off which puzzled him because she would have recognized his voice, would have seen him through the peephole. She cracked open the door, peering through with one huge questioning eye.

"Can I come in?"

"It's not a good idea, Danny."

"Come on, Rikki. I just wanna talk."

"I'm sorry, it's just not a good time."

Reaching a finger through the crack, stroking her cheek, aching for contact. "Have you been crying?"

Arching back until her face was out of his reach. "No, it's nothing."

Pressing a forearm against the door until the chain stretched to its length. "You have been crying, let me in, we can talk."

"It's nothing, please … just a bad day at work … maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Not waiting for an answer, she pivoted out of sight, pressing her weight against the door until he removed his arm and it clicked shut.

* * *

She knew what she needed to do but there was no way she could face it tonight, hopefully tomorrow. But by the time she arrived at her apartment she knew it wouldn't be tomorrow either.

Alone in her apartment, finally, tears flooded her eyes moments before huge racking sobs overcame her. She only made it as far as the couch before she collapsed and folded herself into the grief and the pain.

Sure she'd loved and lost before, sometimes through mutual agreement, sometimes through one sidedness, sometimes through death … that was the worst.

But she'd never loved and lost through deceit and betrayal.

And it stung. The thought of what Danny had done behind her back and to her face made her lose her breath, almost to the point of hyperventilation, every time she thought about it.

She'd always known that there was an element of unpredictability and volatility in Danny's personality. That he was emotional and could take things personally at times. That he always cared a great deal and tried to help people who were in need. But those were all qualities that drew her to him, made her feel safe and alive at the same time, made her fall in love with him.

She'd just never thought he'd use those qualities to cheat and lie, to break her heart in the worst possible way. She'd always thought if it were to end, he'd be decent and honest about it.

But this, she'd never expected this. This from the man who'd searched frantically for her after the takedown, the man who'd waited patiently for her to confront her past and put it to rest, the man who had flown out to Montana to support her through it , the man who, when she'd finally let him in every way, had never made her regret it, until today.

* * *

Now this was more like it, he thought as he tossed back another. Nothing, but absolutely fucking nothing could beat the smooth burn of the best that Jack Daniels had to offer.

"Hit me again, Jake," he slurred as he slammed the empty glass on the bar.

"What is it tonight, Messer, celebratin' or forgettin'?" Jake asked as he exchanged full glass for empty.

"I'm celebratin' the forgettin' of my fucked up life." Raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a full swallow.

"We all mess up now and again, Messer." Jake leaned an elbow on the bar, anticipating an interesting tale, absently swiping a towel at water marks on the bar. It was his job after all to listen to the burdened unburden themselves.

"Not like this, Jake. This is the fuckup of the century."

Seeing patrons coming through the door and seating themselves at the other end of the bar, Jake pushed himself off the bar, flipping the towel over his shoulder.

"Hate to leave you alone Messer, but got some customers."

"Ain't nothing, Jake," Pausing to drain the glass then slam it down on the bar. "As long as you keep 'em comin' … it ain't nothing."

* * *

**A/N: **If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with the story. I've decided, that I'm going to write two different outcomes for this fic. Partly for the writing challenge, partly so you'll be able to choose which ending you want to see for Danny and Lindsay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 3**

Jagged crying fits interspersed with waves of rage and bouts of isolating depression plagued her throughout the night. Only when the shadows in her apartment firmed into familiar objects did she finally fall into a deep but tortured sleep.

And in it she was trying reach the doorway at the end of the corridor; he would be there waiting for her, like always, reassuring her; supporting her; holding her; she'd be safe. But as she passed open doorways on her right and left, she saw faces and heard voices. First, it was Adam and Kendall frantically running samples, shaking their heads, muttering under their breath, "That Lindsay Monroe … how incompetent, forgetful … making extra work … no overtime pay allocated for this screwup". Then there was Hawkes and Flack at a crime scene. Words and phrases tossed back and forth between them as they laughed. "Lindsay left the crime scene … Yeah, looked like she'd seen a ghost … Probably be fired … Would be best for the lab." Sid and Peyton heads bent over a body, slicing carefully and precisely. She hurried past when she saw her face on the body, blue lips and lifeless eyes. The last doorway held Mac and Stella. His voice harsh in self reprimand. "What could I have been thinking – that a country girl from Montana could handle it here?" And Stella's, answering, matter of fact. "You couldn't have known Mac. I was fooled. We were all fooled." She was stumbling towards the door at the end now, desperate for reassurance, comfort and safety. The last stumble sent her sprawling through it onto her knees but before she could right herself she heard more than his voice. She heard a soft laugh, not his, and a younger voice, joking, delightedly. She leaned back her heels, brushing the hair away from her eyes. It was him, and she was there too, Rikki, and Ruben – alive and well. No it couldn't be; he was dead. How could this be? And Rikki sighing as his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, touching his lips to her forehead. "I'm so relieved she's gone," she said. "Me too," he replied, "now we can all be together." Turning to slap the bill of Ruben's baseball hat, causing it to shift and cover his eyes. "Ain't that right, Ruben? Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Ruben, pushing the cap back up his eyes gleaming, "That's right, Danny. You're the best thing that has ever happen to me and my mom."

Then she jerked to consciousness, heart palpitating at a jack rabbit's pace, clothes cold and damp, plastered to her body, eyes squinting in the glare of the late morning sun.

And she felt totally alone, bereft, like nothing would ever make her feel better again. And the tears swelled and broke as they would do many times over that day.

* * *

He didn't know how he'd managed to get back to his apartment, just that he had, and must have passed out just inside the door because his cheek was sticking to the floor in a puddle of his own drool, his throat screamed for water and his head begged for release from the monster stomping around inside it.

The rays of sun, slanting through the window, indicated noon or thereabouts. Bringing his arm, aching and heavy from sleeping with it twisted behind his back, slowly into view, he cursed at the time but when he lifted his head just a fraction of an inch, he knew there'd be no way he'd make it in to work today, no way at all.

Easing himself gently, he rolled carefully onto his back, keeping his head as still and as close to the floor as possible. He pulled his cell phone from his waist holding it above his face so he could see to dial. Mac had never said anything about the shift he had missed a few weeks ago, the one in which Lindsay had covered for him, but he wasn't taking any bets she was gonna be covering for him now.

He coughed and cleared his throat as best as he could while he waited for the call to connect.

"Mac"

No luck, his voice came out graveled and weak. At least I sound sick.

"Something hit me hard last night … yeah, dunno, maybe the flu, maybe something I ate … Yeah, better tomorrow, hopefully. Thanks."

He let the phone drop to the floor not bothering to press the End Call button, his forearm coming to rest across his eyes to block the sunlight continuing to brighten the room, and he groaned at the thought of the royal fuck ups that were now waiting for him beyond his apartment door.

But they didn't stay beyond his apartment door, they crept in under it, filtered in through the air ducts, swam in the dust particles trapped within the slices of sunshine.

And he began to question them.

Why had Lindsay said what she'd said? Hadn't she seen him struggling, struggling to come to terms with their relationship, sensed his distance as she drove towards the thing that he was backing away from? And why say it now and in that manner? Did she really intend to make him feel two feet tall during one of the toughest moments of his life? Cause him more pain than he was already feeling? Why couldn't she understand what he wanted, what he needed?

And Rikki. Why couldn't she just let him make it up to her? Admit that there was something between them so they could continue to chase away their mutual pain and grief? How was he going to do it without her? She's the only one that really understood. How was she going to do it without him? He's the only one that really understood. They could beat this thing together; get back to a normal and happy life.

And he felt completely confused and misunderstood with little idea of what to do next. So he did the only thing he could do, he crawled on hands and knees into the bathroom, pulled himself into the shower still fully clothed, turned on the cold water, numbing himself to all feelings and ceasing all thoughts.

* * *

A/N: Something more concrete in the next chapter, I promise. They just needed to wallow a bit more.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews, the discussion, putting the story on alerts and on your favorites list.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 4**

Swish and click, Swish and click. She was riding the rails to realization.

Swish and click. He _had_ wanted to talk, _had _wanted comfort and support.

Swish and click. Swish and click. Just not from her.

Swish and click. But from Rikki, who shared his pain and grief.

Swish and click. He had found comfort and support through Rikki.

Swish and click. _Don't you mean inside Rikki?_

Swish and click, Tears, hot and scalding, swiping angrily at them.

Swish and click. Swish and click. Honest is all she had been with him.

Swish and click. When her past had reemerged and she had needed time.

Swish and click. When she said she felt as if she'd lost her best friend.

Swish and click. And that she loved him.

Swish and click. Swish and click. Why couldn't he have done the same for her?

Swish and click. Instead of leaving her twisting in the wind.

Swish and click. Anger flared white-hot. Resentment burned fiery-red.

Swish and click. Feeling spurned that he hadn't shown her the courtesy of honesty before the fact.

Whoosh, the doors parted.

Left, right. Left, right. One foot in front of the other.

Left, right. The call had come early, too early.

Left, right. But she couldn't have refused; she had no valid reason.

Left, right. Besides she'd caught a break. Flack and Hawkes.

Left, right. Neutral parties – or so she hoped

Left, right. If luck held, she wouldn't even see him today.

Left, right. Left, right. Could she be that lucky?

Snap, crime scene tape stretched taut.

"Linds," Flack greeted.

Blue eyes like his, but not his. "Flack," she returned, ducking under the tape.

"Not too early for you, is it?"

"What? Why?" Cheeks burning. _Why would he ask that? What did he know? What was he trying to tell her?_

Flack shrugged, unperturbed by what sounded to her ears as insecure ravings of the jilted girlfriend of his best friend.

Voice smoother, calmer than his, but not his. "You just look a little pale, tired. You want me to get you some coffee before I start canvassing?"

Smiling faintly, swallowing a lump at the commonplace gesture that spoke volumes to her. She nodded her agreement.

"Be right back. The body's right inside the newsstand."

Setting down her case, squatting beside the body within the tight confines. Startling visibly upon hearing the inquiry, although not his trademark inquiry of 'Whadda we got?'.

"What do we have?"

Hawkes laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, but it wasn't his hand.

"You okay? I didn't mean to scare you."

Nodding furiously but staring down at the body, she shifted, her back towards Hawkes, swiping again quickly at her eyes. _Get a hold of yourself Lindsay. Tears, every time a coworker speaks to you, won't cut it._

A mental shake and she committed herself to discussing the signature of the crime with Hawkes until Flack returned with her coffee. Once fortified with caffeine, the morning became easier, easier with the processing, the speculating, with Hawkes and with Flack.

But loading kits and evidence into the back of the SUV, hours later, her thoughts raced back to him. Emotional when encountering a friendly or routine remark from a coworker, how would she be expected to hold it together when she saw him? The severe thought that she'd have to uproot and find a job in another city plagued her again as it had many times over since she'd had that conversation with him in the locker room. And the anger flared and the resentment burned again. She wouldn't give him this power over her. He may have taken her heart but she wouldn't let him take her life as well.

She needed a buffer, a buffer of time and space so that she could let go, regain herself without losing her sanity in the process. She'd have to have help though.

* * *

She watched him a moment before she knocked. He seemed benign and reasonable as he scrawled his signature through a sheaf of papers, thumbing a sheet to lift the edge then scrawling, thumb then scrawl, thumb then scrawl, thumb then scrawl …

"Lindsay, do you need something?"

His thumb and hand poised to return to its task if she said no. But she couldn't say no. She had to take the opportunity. It was a risk, but one that she was willing to take if it meant she would emerge with her job intact and be able to remain in a city which had become her home.

The sound of her voice competing to be heard above the thud of her heart. Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe. "Yes … I do, Mac."

Mac laid aside the pen and motioned her to the chair in front of his desk, his creaking as he shifted back, fingertips resting at the edge of his desk, waiting.

Thud, Thud, Swallow and breathe. "Umm, I've made, I mean, I need … I need a change in my schedule."

He frowned. "What kind of change?"

This was it. She'd have to reveal vulnerabilities and insecurities in herself, mistakes she'd made to have a prayer of chance.

Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe. "I, I, I made a mistake in getting involved with, with a coworker."

"Danny?"

Nodding, relieved that he'd said his name for her. Now that it was out there she charged ahead.

"Mac, I just need a month, a month where we're not on shift together and if it's unavoidable then at least working different cases. I know this isn't a reasonable request but if I have month, I know ... I know I'll be able to focus and … and … I love my job and I want to keep it, I just need some time and space to get over this."

He steepled his fingers, tapping them against his lips, looking, not at her, but downward and to his left, thoughtful – at least she hoped.

Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe.

Heaving a big sigh, Mac sat forward in his chair, hands still steepled but forearms resting on the desk.

"Lindsay, I don't want to know what happened between you and Danny; it's not necessary for me to know. What I do know is that he's had a rough couple of months and I have a lab to run." He paused. "I need to ask you a question."

Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe.

"And I need you to answer it regardless of how you think it may affect my decision about your schedule change."

Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe.

"The day that Rikki Sandoval turned herself for taking Danny's gun, did he call in sick?"

There was no way she could lie to Mac's direct question. Those times that she'd covered for Danny, asked someone to intervene on his behalf, given him the benefit of the doubt, those times were in the past and she had to let go. This was about the future, her future, whether she had one left here in the crime lab or not.

"No, he didn't."

Mac's frown stretched in clownlike caricature. "Okay, thanks." He tapped his steepled fingers against the desk, lost in thought.

Thud, Thud. Swallow and breathe.

Finally, to her relief, he spoke. "I'll give you two months, but I'm not promising you might occasionally catch a shift together."

Her breath came in a rush as she spoke. "Thanks, Mac, that's more than generous. You won't regret it, I promise."

"Make sure I don't."

--

Lindsay gave him a grateful smile, "I won't, I promise."

He watched her walk down the hallway. Her burden lightened but his weighted considerably in return.

He hated it when the personal got in the way of the work.

He fingered the drawer handle to his left then finally pulled it open. Lifting a sheaf of papers he removed a snapshot of him and Peyton. Arms around each other, he smiling, she laughing, the sparkle in her eyes just for him.

He hated it when the work got in the way of the personal.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Very special thanks to MariaLisa for the discussion and read through on this chapter. Additional thanks to Bluenose, Elainhe and notesofwimsey for forever engaging in discussion with me about the D/L ship.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 5**

_"Why do you gotta make such a big deal about it?"_

That's what he'd said to her. And that was the problem. Lindsay Monroe _was_ the big deal. She wasn't 'drinks, dinner, some laughs and casual sex'. She was 'bring her home to his ma material'. And he knew that. Had always known it on some level, but had ignored it in his bid to get closer to her. Because he couldn't help himself. He knew better than to get involved with a woman like that. But still he couldn't help himself.

And then Ruben had happened … and everything afterwards.

Now he didn't know what to say to her, what to do. Didn't even know if he should try. Because he wasn't even sure he could be to her what she wanted. What she deserved. It wasn't him. Danny Messer was 'drinks, dinner, some laughs and casual sex'. He wasn't 'bring him home to your parents' material'.

Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe they wouldn't be on shift together today. Could he be so lucky?

* * *

Arriving at the lab, finding out she'd caught the earlier shift, feeling lucky, then not, as Mac appeared in the doorway of the lab, ever the no nonsense boss.

"Danny, in my office."

"Sure Mac, sure, just let me put away this evidence." Quickly but carefully he rebagged the evidence and stowed it away. Mac had already disappeared down the hallway and into his office by the time he exited the lab.

Entering Mac's office, sitting in the chair front and center of Mac's desk, he spoke first. "What's up?" Trying to quell his nervousness by fishing for the reason for the summons, "You need me to work the next shift?" He knew that was weak; Mac wouldn't have called him into his office for that.

He watched Mac press his lips together and a rare emotion steal across his face before he spoke, deliberately, carefully.

"No, Danny I don't need you to work the next shift. But I do need you to answer some questions for me."

Swiping the sweat off the palms of his hands by sliding them up down his thighs, "Sure Mac, sure, whatever I can do to help you out, always willing to help out, you know-"

"Danny."

Waving a hand in the air as a nervous gesture for Mac to continue, "Sorry Mac, go ahead."

He heard the graveness in Mac's voice as he spoke.

"Danny, on the day that you brought Rikki Sandoval in for taking your gun, did you call in sick that morning?"

Shrugging his shoulders, squirming to the right and then left in his chair, trying to figure how to frame his response. "Well, you know, I was feeling …" Seeing Mac's face, that stern 'don't try to bullshit me look', he caved, "No, I didn't."

"Why?"

Responding without reasoning, "I was in a tight spot Mac and frankly I just didn't think about it."

"You didn't _think_ about it?"

_Shit, bad choice of words._

Realizing he'd be digging himself in deeper if he tried to minimize this with Mac, he came clean. "No, you're right. I blew it off. Rikki Sandoval took my gun that morning after she realized Ollie Barnes had made bail, and I went after her."

"Why didn't you call in the theft in right away?"

"I, I, she, she, Mac she was just so distraught I didn't want to bring the whole NYPD down on her if there was a chance I could get to her first, you know reason with her. Mac, she'd just lost Ruben."

"Danny you breached protocol."

"Mac, I know, I know. It won't happen again I promise."

Mac sighed heavily.

Half rising out of his chair. "So we done here 'cause I hate to take up anymore of your time and I got evidence waiting-"

"No, we're not done here, Danny, sit down. I read Rikki's arrest statement."

_Oh this was really bad, really, really bad._

"The time when she threatened Ollie Barnes in the alley and the time when she turned herself into the station are an hour apart. Anything you want to say about that?"

Looking down at his hands, noticing a trace of dirt under one of his fingernails, wondering how he could have ever thought that Mac wouldn't eventually call him on this. _That bastard Flack, he should have minded his own business_.

"I know you were in that alley when this happened. Why didn't you arrest Rikki on the spot?"

Finally, looking at Mac, all the emotion from that day coming out in his words.

"Mac, I just couldn't, I just … I mean it was my fault that Ruben was killed, that she even took my gun and went after Ollie. If I couldn't do anything else for her, I wanted to give her some time, some time to regain a little composure and dignity before she had to face an interrogation scene."

Mac's voice taut as he countered swiftly, "Danny, I can't overlook you blatantly refusing to call in when you're going to miss your shift and I certainly cannot overlook your breach of NYPD rules and regulations."

He could feel the fury building in Mac's voice.

"I don't have to tell you that taking an officer's gun is a serious offence and that these measures are in place to protect the public at large as well as the officers themselves."

He knew it was a weak reason, if even a reason at all to Mac, but it was his reason.

"Mac, I was just trying to help her, she was grieving and in pain."

Aiming a finger at him, "Danny, you aren't running a grief counseling center, you're an officer of the N-Y-P-D-," punctuating each letter with jab of his finger on his desk, "sworn to act in accordance with NYPD policies and procedures."

Palms up. "Mac, I hear you. I get it. It'll never happen again, I promise."

"You're right Danny, it won't."

"I agree, Mac, completely agree and I won't let you down again, I promise."

"Danny, I'm ordering you to see a counselor."

"What?"

"Mac, no, I don't need to see a counselor, I'm fine." A half-laugh escaped him. "It was a momentary slip, come on."

"Danny you need to learn to keep your emotions from letting you make bad decisions."

"But Mac, this is a onetime thing." The minute he said, he knew it was a lie. The Minhas Shooting. Tanglewood. _But counseling?_

"I cannot jeopardize this lab and other people's lives. I must know that I can depend on you and trust you. So, it's counseling and marked improvement or I'll have to take other measures."

* * *

Thankful he hadn't caught a case towards the end of his shift, his legs wearily climbed the last flight of stairs to his apartment. Pressing against the wall to let moving men with a large dresser pass him on the stairs he thought for the hundredth time that day since he had his 'talk' with Mac that a stiff drink was in order.

Topping the landing, he could see Rikki's door open down the hall. Maybe luck was with him. Maybe he could talk her into having a drink with him. He hadn't seen her since he had tried to talk to her the night that he'd had the falling out with Lindsay in the locker room.

_Falling out, is that what you call it Messer?_

Approaching, shocked at the sight in her apartment, the room bare, save a stack of boxes in the center and pools of dust where furniture had once stood.

She emerged from Ruben's bedroom with a box in her hands but it started slipping from her hands when she saw him and he rushed forward to catch it.

Her eyes were even bigger than he remembered and he spoke quickly, before she could bolt or shut him down.

"Rikki, what's going on?" Setting the box on the floor, gesturing around the room, "Where you going?"

"I'm moving out, Danny."

He tried to touch her on the shoulder but she took a step back.

"Come on, Rikki, let's talk about this. Why would you want to move out? Why would you want to leave ..."

His voice trailed off because he couldn't voice the thought.

"I can't face the memories of, of … in this apartment … of, of …"

He could see she was struggling to speak Ruben's name so he finished for her.

"Of Ruben, I get it. But why, why not just move down the hall, in with me? I've got plenty of room. It'll give you some time to think about what you really want to do"

"Danny, I can't-"

"Come on Rikki, you gotta let me help you." Desperate not to lose this lifeline, he threw her what he thought could be hers. "We could be good together, me and you."

"Oh come on Danny, you barely know me."

"I know enough, Rikki."

"No, you don't! You don't know me."

"I know you lost your son and I lost a friend. We could build on that, create something of our own."

He heard the shock and pain in her voice. "Danny!" He didn't think her eyes could grow any wider but they did. "How could you even think of replacing him?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I just meant-"

"It doesn't matter what you meant because no matter how nice you are to me, how much you try to make me feel better it's not going to work because-"

And she stopped abruptly, tears pooling in her eyes.

With dreadful premonition – one he didn't want to know but couldn't bear not to know – he whispered, "Because why?"

She swallowed hard, looking at the floor, her voice shaking as she whispered, "Because I can't bear to look at you."

Taking a step into her personal space, "What do you mean? Because you blame me? Is that it?" Gripping her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him, "Look at me, Rikki. You blame me. Say it!" Her tears catching on his fingers, slipping over his hand and down his arm.

A soft whimper. "It isn't that. I meant it when I said I don't blame you for his death and you shouldn't blame yourself either but," her voice revived with the emotion, "but I can't help feeling angry, resentful every time I see you because," taking a deep breath, wrenching her face free from his hand as the words tore from her in a sob, "because you were the last one to see him alive and not me," crumpling to the floor, arms wrapping protectively about her knees, rocking, sobs deep and jagged.

Even in his willingness to give her anything and everything he had to give, it wasn't enough, and could never be enough, because his mere presence caused her pain and grief.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Continued thanks for the thoughtful and indepth reviews. They help me to continue to write this story.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 6**

That night she wondered if she'd made the right decision by completely removing herself from his presence, isolating herself into a false sense of security thus possibly rendering herself incapable of handling it when she suddenly encountered him again. While it had seemed right in the light of day, in the darkest of dark she doubted it. That darkest of dark lurked behind her eyelids, tortured her, taunted her, ridiculed her, brought her to her knees in anguished sobs that tore from her body for hours on end. That darkest of dark was absolute in its judgment, complete in its isolation. It was that darkest of dark that she kept at bay with a solitary light which glowed and wavered against the window, its beam escaping into the street but its source trapped behind the glass, within the confines of the apartment. This dark was soft, gentle, wrapping her in its arms, blurring the edges and the angles, hiding the faults and the flaws, dulling the memories. It was in this single eyed light that she was able to exist until the all encompassing light of day came to her rescue, reassuring her once again that she'd made the right decision.

* * *

That night he couldn't stay in his apartment, let alone his building, knowing that he was the cause of all her pain and grief. So he walked, walked the city that never slept, the city that was in his blood, the city that if you didn't know how to handle it, it would chew you up and spit you out. He'd gone toe to toe with it on any number of occasions. Sometimes it was a loss, sometimes it was a win, sometimes it was a draw and sometimes it had been merely a matter of perspective.

Walking, his feet found their way into familiar territory; too familiar – haunting and painful – and suddenly his feet would walk no more, so he stared up at her window. The light so bright and beckoning, that for a moment he believed it was for him and followed a resident through the door, quickly, quietly.

After three flights of stairs he sank to floor against the opposite wall, staring at her door. How many times had they stumbled through that door at the end of a grueling shift to pleasure and be pleasured, to obliterate the stress and strife of the day, only to rush back through it the next morning or in the middle of the night, if need be, refreshed, ready to face it all again? Was it only a matter of perspective that it had seemed so right, so real, so perfect … yet so scary … he, afraid to let it go but equally afraid to face it … she, unabashedly embracing it? Until … until Ruben had given him excuse to do neither and had given her no other option but to reject it.

The day that Ruben had died he thought things couldn't get any worse, that he couldn't feel any blacker and bleaker than he felt when he saw Ruben's body being wheeled through the morgue, when he had had to break the news to Rikki, when he had had to watch her at his funeral, grieving openly then finally crumpling under the weight of her loss when the coffin had been lowered into the ground.

But the past twenty four hours were fast approaching that level of bleak and black – Rikki, whatever comfort they found in each other now gone with her departure, the disappointment, the anger and the ultimatum from Mac, and Lindsay laying her heart and soul bare then snatching it back upon learning the truth about he and Rikki.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to knock on her door, not tonight, for if he did and she turned him away, what would he do? He would have nothing left. This was not a matter of perspective; this was a litany of hard cold facts, staring him in the face.

And for the hundredth time that day since Mac had handed him the card with the ultimatum of one week, he fingered it, then pulled it out, turned it over and over, the words appearing as readily in his mind as they were printed upon the card.

Tiberius (Ty) Nalor

Licensed Psychotherapist

* * *

Feeling the frustration of evidence reluctant to yield its secrets, she left the lab for a breath of fresh air and a double mocha latte.

--

In the morning light he'd made the call and now, still unbelieving that he'd done it but full of confidence of good things to come, he saw her exiting the crime lab as he approached it. Doubling his stride to catch her, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, using the element of surprise to propel her into the relatively quiet alley.

--

The sudden presence of fingers wrapped around her upper arm surprised her only long enough for him to get her into the alley where she immediately backed away from him once his fingers dropped from her arm.

--

Face to face with her, her eyes large and luminous, expressive as they'd always been, he started at what he saw in their depths, surprise, fear, disgust. His words suddenly left him – as if they'd ever been with him – for he had acted on whim of emotion when he had seen her exiting the lab.

--

Seeing him face to face, his hair familiarly mussed, his jaw characteristically stubbled, his eyes bluer than she ever remembered them, she felt the conflicting urge to flee and to remain battling within her.

--

Licking his lips, regaining his wits, words rough with emotion, "Lindsay, I want to talk."

Feeling her heartbeat quicken with the thought of any discussion with him, she quickly headed him off at the path. "I don't want to talk."

Stepping closer to her, counting on his closeness to subdue her, he spoke softly, "Then just listen, okay?"

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, her breath barely slipped through her lips, "Danny, I don't think so"

Lightly brushing back a wisp of hair caught between her lips, he countered, "Just listen, no matter what you think of me now, don't ever think that I meant to hurt you."

The touch of his finger on her skin made her want to believe his words, believe the sincerity in his voice but remembering the last two months, the conversation in the locker room, she couldn't let it go, "Then why did you do it? Why did you sleep with her?"

Letting his fingers fan through her hair, hoping that if he could explain it, she could understand it, "Because, because … I don't know, there was so much pain over Ruben's death and, and-"

Eyes remaining resolutely closed, the wail of the rejected and the neglected coloring her words, "But why not me, Danny, why not me?"

Fingers tightening within her hair, pulling her forehead to forehead with him, answering her wail with a deeper one of his own, "Lindsay it wasn't about you. I wasn't even thinking of you during those moments."

Her eyes flew open in realization; he could see any ground that he'd gained, gone. Her hands, in one surprising quick thrust against his chest, separated them; he, not wanting to hurt her, released his fingers from her hair.

"That's right Danny. You weren't thinking, you were acting on emotion, on feelings, feelings for her. You admitted you had feelings for her."

"Lindsay I don't deny there were feelings but-"

"But what Danny? What's the point of you telling me all this?"

"I want to-"

Her fury rising in her indignation that not only knowing about his infidelity with Rikki, she'd have to hear about it as well, "You want to unload on me so you can skate away with a clear conscience! Is that what you want, Danny? Well, think again! Because I will not be left holding your baggage. It's yours Danny. You own it. Deal with it. I want no part of it."

Thinking that her anger had reached its peak during their locker room talk, he now realized that he'd only scratched the surface, and he was momentarily at a loss for words.

Ready to put an end the conversation, she dug in with a self-righteous vengeance. "You better get going or you'll be late for your shift."

Frustrated and disappointed that he'd so quickly lost the ground he'd gained, anxious to erase the pain and bitterness he saw in her face, he reinforced himself, "Forget the shift, Lindsay, someone will cover for me."

The proverbial fury of a woman scorned sent the last dart into his heart, "Someone will cover for you? Is that what people are to you? Minions to cover for you, comfort you, look after you, intervene for you?"

"Oh that's a low blow."

"Is it? As low as sleeping with another woman behind my back and trying to justify it through, through, through … I don't even have a valid reason for it and you know what don't bother trying to come up with one because there isn't."

And she was gone into the throngs on the street, swallowed up by the city, his city, but this fight wasn't with the city, with Rikki, or Mac, not even with her.

This fight was within himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm very humbled by the thoughtful and sometimes emotional things people have to say about this story. Thank you very much for sharing them with me.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 7**

Due to the tears in her eyes all she could see were blurs, blurs bumping around her like a surreal herky jerky carnival ride, blurs which she clumsily tried to avoid in efforts to return to the lab, to put distance between her and Danny. The talk in the alley had been too close to breaking down her defenses. If he hadn't said the wrong thing at the right moment, who knows what would have happened, who knows-

"Ouch!"

She'd smacked into a solid blur with a familiar voice.

"Lindsay, are you okay?"

He placed gentle but firm hands on her shoulders as she kept her head down and tried to sidestep him. Angling his head to see her face, he could see that she was upset. With his above average height and a quick glance ahead of him, he spied Danny through the throng coming in their general direction, swiveling his head from side to side with a frustrated searching look on his face.

His detective's training and natural instincts surmised the situation but he confirmed it for the record. "Does this have anything to do with Messer?"

She nodded furiously, finally looking up at him, pleading in her eyes and tears still tracking down her cheeks. "But I don't want to talk to him, Don."

Turning her around, wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he guided her through the throng away from the lab. "Okay, okay, let's go get a cup of coffee and talk this through."

The emotions had come so fast and furious, crashing from one to the other that now drained and sagging, she gratefully leaned into his body during the half block walk to the coffee shop.

He strategically took the booth in the corner at the back of the shop, seating himself facing the windows. Lindsay sat across from him, elbows on the table, hair shielding her face as she cradled her head in her hands.

He touched her elbow gently. "Coffee?"

She rocked her head dramatically back and forth in her hands before she slapped them down on the table, lifting her head and shoulders as she took a cleansing breath. Strands of her hair stuck to the tear tracks along her cheeks and her eyes still glistened but her voice held conviction as she said, "No, I need a stiff drink"

He grinned at her spunk. "That bad, huh?"

And suddenly her face was back in her hands as her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.

"Linds, Linds, it can't be that bad, can it?" he soothed as he moved to her side of the booth, nudging her gently until she scooted over to make room for him. His arm went around her shoulders and he grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table laying the pile in front of her in a kind a ceremonial offering to dry her tears.

She snatched the handful, wiping determinedly at her eyes, then folded each one into halves, then quarters stacking them neatly one on top of the other. .

Waiting for her to spin out her anxiety, the waitress appeared and he held up two fingers as he said, "Coffee."

I really shouldn't talk to you about it," heaving a quivering sigh, "with you and Danny being such good friends."

Don't worry Linds. I know him like a brother," giving her shoulders an encouraging squeeze, "there's not much you can tell me that he's done that would surprise me.

Finally, looking at him, pushing it out before she could back away from it, "He slept with Rikki."

"Shit, except that."

Hearing the shock in his voice, he turned away quickly to hide it in his face, noticing for the first time the yellowing and grease stained walls of the coffee shop, the coffee shop that he'd been in too many times to count during his years with the NYPD. Any number of those times with Danny. _Shit, Danny slept with Rikki!_ Curling and uncurling his fingers until the bite of reality settled into him, he tightened the curl, whitening his knuckles.

"That lying cheating sonofabitch!"

* * *

A few minutes into his shift he was regretting his early morning phone call, the one he'd made before he'd had time to talk himself out of it. Early mornings were never his best moments. He'd like to push the appointment back a day or two, give himself time to regain some equilibrium after the failed attempt to explain things to Lindsay in the alley. What he'd really like to do is to cancel it altogether. Nope – not an option if he wanted to keep his job. Besides he probably knew every counselor in IAB, what, with the routine officer recertification to insure their psychological ability to do the job year in and year out. Even with the brush with Tanglewood and the Minhas shooting he'd been cleared for active duty again within a few appointments. And in this case he hadn't even been removed from active duty.

_Walk in the park, Messer, walk in the park._

But somewhere deep inside him a voice was countering.

_But how many parks are there? And how many murders do you see in those parks each year?_

* * *

"Detective Messer here to see uh," he pulled the card out of his pocket and made a show of reading the name, "Tiberius Naylor," even though there's no way it'd slip his mind. _What the hell kind of name was Tiberius anyway?_ It sounded like the name of a monk – some moldy old, meditating and ohming yourself into inner peace and serenity kind of monk.

The unaffected receptionist made an equal show of clicking her keyboard, peering intently at her screen before waving him to the door at the far right, replying, "Mr. Nalor is expecting you, go on back."

_Mr? Aren't these guys usually doctors? This guy sounds like a quack._

Knocking, then entering upon hearing the gruff, "It's open." He put his head through first, like a cat insuring safety in the surroundings, before stepping completely into the room. An almost bare room. An old beat up metal desk, a couple of folding chairs in front of the desk and one behind. No pictures on the walls, no documents proclaiming ability and credibility, no calming greenery, no cushy arm chairs angled companionably towards other in the corner with a floor lamp spreading its soft ambiance between them. Just average daylight from the standard issue office window which framed a solid head upon a barrel chested torso supported by two rangy but slightly bowed legs. The figure walked around the desk and extended an equally solid hand.

"Ty Nalor. You must be Detective Danny Messer."

Returning the solid grip, quick to put things on a first name basis, he said, "Danny, call me Danny."

"Same here - Ty."

Ty dropped his hand giving Danny a nod towards one of the chairs in front of his desk, while he leaned back against the desk, hands bracing against its edge, legs stretched out in front of him ankles crossed, an open oblong shape forming from the bow in his legs.

Danny, subconsciously matching the intent of the posture, shifted back in the chair, sliding easily along the metal, looping an arm back behind the chair. Tossing a glance around the room, he said, "This doesn't seem like the typical counselor's office."

Ty replied, "I'm not your typical counselor." He paused for a moment before adding, "I don't usually work for the NYPD."

"So what brings you to the NYPD?" He knew it was a stupid question as soon as it was out of him mouth.

Ty bent backwards across the desk opening a drawer and withdrawing a file – a very thick file. He let it drop onto the desk beside him, papers spreading, the smack echoing in the near empty office.

Looking Danny straight in the eyes, his own unflinching, he said, "I come when the case warrants it."

Danny stared into the man's eyes – dark and penetrating – eyes performing a one way suck, taking in everything, revealing nothing.

And Danny felt himself begin to sweat.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Very special thanks to MariaLisa for her help on this chapter. Thanks to everyone else for the reviews, the alerts, the favorites. The saga continues.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 8**

Stabbing arms into his lab coat, less than twenty-four hours later, Danny was still trying to wrap his mind around the meeting with the counselor. It just didn't seem to make sense. Weren't counselors supposed to be all concerned and caring? Weren't they supposed to try to get inside your head? Weren't they supposed to try to help you? This guy - "Ty," he mimicked in his head and air quoted with his fingers - seemed like he couldn't give a fuck.

_Ty had been relentless in his stare; Danny, still sweating, didn't know how much longer he could hold it. And he certainly didn't know what to say to break it, at least what to say that wouldn't come out sounding like he was looking for a way out. Even though he'd like nothing more at the moment than a way out. _

_Finally, Ty broke the silence, but not the stare, and said, "Why are you here, Danny?"_

_What a stupid question? He burned at the idea of reiterating his past transgressions like some common criminal or worse a naughty school boy. He sputtered, "Why am I here? Why ask me?" Gesturing towards the file on the desk. "You got the file right there."_

_Ty shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest, seemingly unconcerned at Danny's indignation. "Okay, tell me something that isn't in this file, something that would explain to me why a seemingly smart guy like yourself chooses to be an emotional run and gun."_

_Slouching posture replaced by one coiled to leave his chair if the moment warranted it. "An emotional run and gun? What kind of … an emotional … I give more to my job on a daily basis than most guys give in a month."_

_"I grant you that, you care and you're a passionate guy. But maybe the caring and the passion get out of hand, eclipsing any good that you do." Ty picked up the file, thumb rifling the pages, making his point. "Have I got it right?"_

_"Okay so you're the expert. What's your surefire technique for curing me?"_

_"Surefire?" _

_Ty's eyes remained dark and penetrating until almost to Danny's relief, he came nose to nose with him. Unable to focus on those eyes which were so close to his, Danny stretched the distance between them by looking at the white in the creases surrounding them – surely compliments of time in the sun, the awkward bump across the bridge of his nose - probably the result of a bad break, his teeth, yellowed - likely from years of tobacco use in one form or another. _

_Ty's voice snaked around his ears, calm in its delivery, deadly in its assertion. "I haven't got any surefire techniques, and if the bets were on me to cure you, I wouldn't take 'em._

_"Whadda mean?" _

_Ty straightened, resuming his nonchalant stance against the desk. "I mean there's not a thing I can do to cure you."_

_He didn't know if he was more grateful to have the man out of his personal space or to have the opportunity to throw his hands up in the air, releasing some of the tension and anger coiled inside him. "Then why the hell am I here?"_

_Ty held up his hands, "I don't know Danny. Why the hell are you here?"_

"Lindsay, wait up." Snapped back to reality as he heard the familiar voice calling from somewhere down the hall, he looked up.

She paused in front of the lab, the glass wall allowing him full view of her. Slim and trim, smartly dressed as always, hair fluidly following the turn of her head as she glanced backwards, a frown puckering the skin between her eyebrows and a question pouting her lips as Mac caught up to her. He couldn't hear their voices as the conversation progressed but he watched. He watched and read every move that she made, every emotion that crossed her face. Because he knew her. And he wanted to continue to know her. He was realizing he couldn't bear the thought of not knowing her again … like he had known her in the past.

--

She paused when she heard Mac call her name even though she'd like nothing more than to clear the building as soon as possible. Since she was late, getting off her shift, she was trying to avoid bumping into Danny. Yesterday's encounter had been enough to last her a lifetime. But bosses cannot be ignored, especially ones that had recently granted you a huge favor. She turned.

"Hi Mac, do you need something?"

"Actually yes I do. I need your help."

"Sure."

"I've got this presentation to give to a group of University students. It's a part of a career options series that the NYPD does every year to attract degreed candidates to the ranks." Apology and hope skirted across his face. "And I can't do it. Last minute planning meeting with Gerrard."

"So you want me to do it?"

"Yes, you give a little spiel about a typical work day for a CSI, nothing major. I usually cover a case to make it more realistic. Here's the file. Slides are already prepared."

She held out her hand for the file, flipping through its contents quickly. "Looks straightforward enough."

"It's scheduled to start right after your shift ends tomorrow, shouldn't take more than hour with Q&A afterwards."

Thinking only of the obvious logistics of running into Danny, the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I don't know, Mac."

She could see the puzzled questioning in his face and she recovered quickly, holding the file out to him, hoping she could convince him to rethink his decision. "I mean, why me? You've got Stella with tons more experience and Hawkes who's well versed in so many more areas and-"

His voice firm, he curled his hand around hers and pushed the file back towards her, "I asked you, Lindsay."

She clutched the file to her chest, biting her lip, realizing she hadn't a leg to stand on in refusing him.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Besides you've got a flair for presentation."

A slight blush crept up her neck and over her cheeks as she recalled all the demos she'd performed in her early days on the job, not sure then if she had deserved to be here, but determined to prove it anyway. And she relented, taking pride in the fact that he had chosen her, however inconsequential of a task it may be.

Now she hugged the file to her chest with both hands as she said, "I'll do it, no problem."

"Thanks, Lindsay. Let me know if you have any questions."

He continued down the hallway and she couldn't stop the brilliant smile that spread across her face. She turned to go as well but caught sight of those blue eyes through the glass as she turned. And her smile slipped off her face and out of her heart.

--

In that tiny moment when she turned toward him, he basked in the radiance of her smile, feeling that it was for him, that all was forgiven, that they could go back to what they had had. But when her eyes widened in recognition and her smiled slipped off her face and out of his reach, he knew that that wasn't the case.

"Danny," Hawkes called from the doorway of the lab, "we caught one."

In the flash that it took him to acknowledge Hawkes with a glance, she was gone, slipping away again with no narrowing off the chasm between them only confirmation that it was widening.

* * *

The uncharacteristic silence during the drive to the crime scene heightened Hawkes' concern for the man sitting beside him. Witnessing the non-verbal exchange between Danny and Lindsay back at the lab tipped him towards an inkling of the situation between the pair. Offering an ear, he said, "You know when things are tough, it helps to talk it through."

Danny adjusted his seatbelt then dropped his chin to his chest, massaging the back of his neck with one hand.

"Wouldn't even know where to begin."

"At the beginning."

Lifting his head, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Not sure where that even is anymore."

Then he fell back into silence.

* * *

They entered the posh hotel room, observing a guy with a towel cinched low and loose about his waist, a single gunshot wound to the chest – the heart – a through and through.

Flack came up behind them and began the rundown. "Room registered to a Mr. Jones but his license id's him as Brant Cominskey. Judging by the state of the bedsheets, the fact that there are two glasses and that champagne bottle is empty, I'd say he wasn't alone."

"Someone shut down his party." Hawkes surmised as crouched and pulled a pair of gloves out of his kit, "For good."

Setting down his kit but making no move to open it, Danny stood and hooked his thumbs into his pockets, perceptibly rocking back and forth on his heels as he remarked, "Sad bastard, probably didn't even see it coming."

Flack closed his notepad and inserted it carefully inside his jacket before looking directly at Danny. "Bastard probably had it coming, Messer."

A very odd feeling settled inside Danny, cold and desolate at the onset but heating at the blue flint in Flack's eyes and the lock of his jaw.

"You got something you want to say to me, Flack?"

Flack's face twisted with his words. "I don't have words for what I want to say to you, Messer."

Danny tensed, ready to expel every emotion that had been building in him over the past several days. "Then let's take it outside."

Flack flicked the words at him. "Grow up Messer."

No thought just emotion, Danny swung, Flack anticipated, sidestepping and the blow landed against a marble statue of the Venus de Milo.

"Fucking A." Danny gasped as he doubled over clutching his fist to his chest.

Hawkes rushed over, crouching beside Danny, pulling his hand into view, palpitating, Danny monitoring the pain through his breathing.

"You're going to need to have this looked at."

"You're a doctor and you're looking." Danny threw at him on a rush of breath.

"I mean x-rays. And it will need to be wrapped if there's a facture."

"Just wrap it for now, doc."

"Come on Danny. There's no need. I can process the scene alone and Don can take you in."

"I said wrap it!"

Flack looking down upon Danny, commented, "Sad bastard," then turned and left the room.

Hawkes sighed, reaching for his kit to find the wrapping supplies.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter came a little quick than I thought, so here you go!**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 9**

Lindsay took a deep breath and entered the room. Performing an impromptu demo for her boss in the course of her job was a relative snap compared to … panning the room … calculating … approximately five rows of ten … fifty students! And one advisor at the back of the room, leaning casually against a table next to his chair, looking more hippyish than academic and as disinterested as the entire back row. A guy on the end yawned and she swore it caught fire and passed along the whole back row like the wave at a football game. Looking to the front row to boost her confidence, she noted with relief they were the typical front rowers, notepads opened, pencils poised and hands almost twitching in anticipation of grabbing their moment to question, answer or clarify. Sandwiched in between the two were the middle rowers, chatting amongst themselves, fidgeting with their cell phones or rocking in rhythm to their mp3 players – the swing group – ready to fall into ranks with eager-to-please front row or the couldn't-care-less back row depending on the appeal of her presentation.

She plunged in before her planned introduction abandoned her short term memory. "Hi, and welcome to the New York City Crime Lab. I'm Detective Lindsay Monroe. I've worked here in The Crime Lab as a Crime Scene Investigator for the past three years. Before that I was a CSI in Bozeman, Montana. So not only will I describe the average day in the life of a CSI but I will bring you personal perspective on a small town CSI versus a CSI in a major city. But first let me discuss what's required to successfully operate in the position of a CSI."

She removed the first slide from her folder, placing it on the overhead projector as she switched it on. She began her iteration of the bulleted items but glanced up upon hearing the crinkling of paper – like a candy wrapper. A head nodded in sleepiness in the back row, the advisor shifted in his seat, stretching his legs, long, out in front of him, a twitter of whispers scuttled throughout the middle rowers while the front row, attentive and expectant, squirmed at her hesitation. She fanned herself with the file, realizing she was caught in a much too warm room, compliments of the row of picture windows lining the east wall, and in a time zone of the after-lunch, mid-afternoon urges for a snooze. A virtual no man's land in the world of presentations. Suddenly a cell phone pealed the classic, _You're No Good_.

Irritation at the subliminal message in the tune and the fear that the presentation was heading south even before it started caused her to blurt out, "What do you do when your cell phone rings in the middle of an important presentation?" Realizing too late the inappropriateness of her outburst, she blithered on, "Or at 2am on a Saturday or when you're in the movie theater or … or when you're stuck in traffic in the Holland Tunnel?"

A smart aleck in the back row, suddenly awake, answered, "Well, duh, you answer it."

"That's right! You answer it." Feeling a wave of ingenuity replacing her shock, she continued, "And what if it's your boss calling you to a crime scene on a desolate stretch of the East River with snow in the forecast and a wind chill of minus ten degrees?"

Hands all along the front row popped up, but a middle rower answered before she could call on any one specific, "I guess you go."

"Exactly, you go, because that's your job as a CSI."

A front rower taking liberties dropped her hand and said, "I could do that. I exist on as little as 2 or 3 hours of sleep during exam week."

Shuffling through the file quickly, grabbing a handful of photos, she distributed them into the eager hands of the front rowers, "But could you do this?"

Suddenly the middle rowers were leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the body shots and the back rowers were on their feet peering over the middle rowers.

"Could you look at a floater pulled from the East River – bloated, blotched, partially clothed, covered in seaweed, rank and foul smelling – look at a floater for hours on end, photographing, examining, processing … for hours on end in the biting cold with the wind whipping off the water?"

She heard a retching sound as one of the front rowers dropped a photo, hands clutched to their stomach as they rushed from the room. Lindsay knelt to pick it up, tapping it against her palm as she stood.

"And that's only one of the requirements of being a CSI. Now let's take a closer look at these photos for clues to the cause of death."

--

Danny, passing by the conference room, caught her animated movements out of the corner of his eye. Fifty or so students clamored for her attention as she moved about the room, calling on this one or that. Nodding enthusiastically when one tendered a correct answer or an insightful guess, she knitted her eyebrows and pursed her lips in the face of wrong answers or trips down a dead end path then responded with leading questions or encouraging suggestions.

It was a Lindsay he knew well, one that made even the toughest or boring cases bearable, the Lindsay he loved to be around … but the Lindsay to who was off limits to him … as were all versions of Lindsay.

--

"What brings you to The Crime Lab, Don?" Mac asked as Flack held open the door for him.

"Got a heads up that a uni picked up a suspect in yesterday's hotel murder. Thought I'd swing by on my way back to the precinct and see if Messer or Hawkes had anything for me to use during the interrogation."

At the mention of Danny Mac hesitated, reluctant to take advantage of a friendship but unwilling to let a valuable team member ruin his career, "I know this is off the subject and little personal, but what's your take on Danny right now?"

Pausing at the elevators, Flack jabbed the up button then rubbed a hand along his jaw, reluctant to put his best friend deeper in with his boss but unwilling to ignore the severity of the situation, "Mac, if something doesn't give, I think he's headed for a breakdown."

They followed a swarm of people onto the elevator. Mac looked sideways at Flack, "I think you're right. If and when it happens, I just hope one of us is there to catch him before he does any real harm to himself or someone else."

Flack traced the geometric pattern of the carpet with his eyes as he sighed, "Unfortunately, I think it's more a matter of when than if."

The doors dinged their destination and they stepped off, heading down the hallway in a shared but frustrated silence.

--

The presentation finished, Lindsay gathered up the photos and stacked them back into the file folder. She could feel the flush of success on her cheeks. Whether or not she'd convinced any of these students that they'd be suited for the position of CSI, she had no doubt they understood what it took to be a successful CSI.

"That was quite a presentation, Detective Monroe."

Blue eyes caught hers as she looked up. Shaking the hand offered, she quickly assessed the longish haired advisor with his wide smile and easy manner as sincere and replied with a wide smile of her own, "Just doing my job."

"Well, if we had lecturers in our department at the University doing their job like you just did, we'd have no problems attracting and keeping promising students."

"Thanks. And what would be your department? … uh, Mr. Dr.?"

"Sorry, Rand, Rand Silsbee and the department is Forensic Science. Interested?"

"In what?"

"In a job … with the University?"

"Oh, umm, hadn't really thought about it."

"Well give it some thought while I get you my card."

Pushing the overheard projector back against the wall, she halted as she looked up into another pair of blue eyes, soft and beguiling.

"Lindsay that was some kind of presentation."

She swallowed and froze, not sure what to say or do as the caress of the gentleness and awe in his voice surrounded her.

Taking advantage of her hesitation, he stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Look, I know this isn't the best time but we really need to talk."

Turning away from those eyes, she managed a whisper. "No, no, I don't think so Danny."

Brushing by him closer than she'd like due to the students milling about the room, his hand on her upper arm halted her. She stared at the bandage wrapped about his fingers, images in her mind and on her heart of another time when the same fingers were encased in bandages, an earlier time when he had sacrificed for her, then turned to her for comfort during his healing, not like the most recent time when … jerking away from her thoughts and him, she tried to make an escape but his fingers tightened and his voice grated with emotion.

"Lindsay, please."

"No!"

"Here you go, Detective Monroe."

Emotions flaring at yet another rejection from her and the untimely interruption from this … this stranger, Danny said, "Could you give us minute? This is private."

Lindsay, in attempts to keep the situation calm, threw an apologetic and frustrated look at Rand Silsbee as she took his card. "I'll definitely give it some thought. And please call me Lindsay."

"I'd like to call you … Lindsay."

The double meaning of Rand's statement did not escape Lindsay or Danny. But while Lindsay let it go without acknowledgement, Danny lost out to blind jealousy as he released Lindsay's arm and gave Rand a two handed shove to the chest. Rand took a couple of unexpected steps backwards but recovered before crashing into a row of chairs.

Suddenly, Flack had Danny's arms twisted behind his back and Mac in his face, "You may take down yourself, but you will not take down this lab. Do you understand me?"

Danny lurched once but Flack hiked his arm further up his back which gained a perceptible nod from Danny but still no eye contact.

Mac angled his face so he could look Danny in the eye. "You're out of here Danny. Gather your things and get out."

Mac nodded at Flack and Flack released him, Danny stumbled at the abruptness of the release but regained his balance and strode towards the door.

"Escort him out, Flack."

Lindsay pushed past Flack, Mac and Rand, calling, "Danny, wait!"

But he continued without a backward glance and she paused at the doorway, wondering if she'd done the right thing by turning him away, shutting him out completely, building her wall while his foundation crumbled.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Again this chapter came quicker than I thought. I guess you could say I'm a little anxious about Danny's state of mind. :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 10**

She watched him walk away with her heart and wondered if it was wise to follow it. After all, broken or not, it was the only heart she had.

"I'll try to talk to him, Linds," Flack murmured as he approached her.

"Thanks, Don, please tell him …" She tore her eyes from the hallway down which Danny had disappeared and looked up at him, "I don't know what to tell him."

Giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, he said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I better go catch up with him though."

She nodded mutely, barely aware of stepping back into the room to perform the inconsequential task of collecting her folder, unseen figures milling about her and unheard conversations floating around her. The only voices she recognized were the two in front of her, next to the table where her folder lay.

_Just get the folder, Lindsay._

"I'm really sorry about this, Rand," Mac was saying as he held out his hand to the younger man.

"No need to apologize, Mac," Rand responded as he gripped Mac's hand enthusiastically. "Actually it's been an exciting break from routine academia. And it does bring back some memories, doesn't it?"

_Memories? Don't think about the memories, Lindsay._

Possessing neither mood nor composure for conversation, she slipped an arm as unobtrusively as possible behind the two men to retrieve her folder from the table,

Mac began to massage his temples with a thumb and middle finger. "Yeah, you could say I'm having déjà vu here." But then a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he added, "Honestly though, I never thought anyone could give me as much trouble as you did."

_Must get the folder._

Unable to reach the folder with the stretch of her arm, she murmured, "Excuse me, can you hand me that file folder?"

The men turned toward her, Mac passing her the folder, silent empathy and questioning crossing his face while Rand's easy smile infused his next remark. "Speaking of excitement, Lindsay delivered a presentation that kept the students on the edge of their seats the entire time."

"That's good to hear." Mac nodded his congratulations to her then sighed fully. "At least one thing's going right today."

_Words heard; words craved before … but not now. Their joy, grit, choking in her throat._

Rand leaned casually against the table, folding his arms across his chest, fixing his gaze on Lindsay but addressing Mac. "So good in fact, I'd like to hire her away from you."

Lindsay, looking at blue eyes so familiar but not his, offered niceties to put an end to the conversation, desiring nothing more than to be away from anyone and everyone at this moment. "Thank you Rand, but I'm quite happy here at The Crime Lab."

"Well I know from experience that being a CSI takes its toll so-"

Objects blurring, composure slipping, energy draining, she clutched the file to her chest, quickly excusing herself with a parting, "I'll see you tomorrow, Mac," and vacated the room.

* * *

Flack followed Danny at a discreet distance not as an escort but as a friend. He watched him enter the lab, yank off his lab coat and toss it furiously at the coat rack, ignoring the miss as it crumpled to the floor, Followed him as he stalked out of the lab and down the hall to his office where he shifted various files on his desk searching for something but what, Flack didn't know. He felt his frustration and anger as Danny knitted his fingers behind his head, squeezing his elbows close to his ears. And felt the pain and regret when he dropped them to his sides, his shoulders drooping in resignation as he stared at Lindsay's desk. Readying himself when Danny revived with a mutter of something that sounded like "Fuck this shit," he followed him from the office and to the locker room. Not more than thirty seconds passed before Danny remerged, jacket slung over his shoulder, badge absent from his waist, banging the door with a vengeance. Flack followed him to the stairwell where Danny showed that door equal mercy as he shoved through it. Flack took the stairs two at time to catch him before he lost him to the city. Once in the city, the odds of finding him decreased a thousand fold and Flack had that cold, desolate feeling that Danny was intending to lose himself for a very long time.

But as his friend he caught Danny's arm, right above the elbow just as he shoved through the exit. Flack held on firmly as he sidestepped the ricochet of the heavy, metal security door. Danny jerked his arm, but Flack remained firm. Breathing heavy, acquiescent for the moment but staring straight ahead, Danny pushed his glasses back up with a knuckle then hitched his fingers through a belt loop, waiting.

"Listen Danny," Struggling to catch the wind in his sails again, "I know you're hurting. I know you're angry but you're gonna come down from this and you're gonna need a friend." Pausing, hoping for a glance but after a few moments realizing the Messer stubbornness was at the helm, he continued, "I want you to know that no matter what's happened between us, I'll be here for you." Letting the words crest then sink and settle, before casting his net as wide as possible. "And Lindsay will too."

Danny jerked his arm free this time, facing him, face twisted in a fury that Flack had never seen on him before. "You don't know one thing about what I need or what I want, so fuck off Flack and mind your own god damn business."

* * *

Only enough energy to arrive at her office and sink into her chair before her head hit her arms folded upon her desk, tears expressing all the pain, the regret, the guilt – yes, the guilt for pushing him away – within her. For however much she may hate what he'd done to her, she didn't hate him. And she certainly didn't want to have any part in his demise. She'd fix that now, give him his say, free and clear, so that they could both move on and heal.

She flipped open her cell phone, pressing his speed dial number, anxiously awaiting for the connection to complete. Hearing the familiar ring – so close, in fact, much too close. She followed the sound on her hands and knees around her desk and under his, clutching his shrilling cell phone in her hand.

_How am I going to get to him now?_

* * *

He closed the door to his office, something he rarely did, and pulled a card from his desk drawer. Flipping it to the back, he punched the numbers penned in red and waited.

"Yeah, it's Mac."

"I think he's hit. Be on the lookout."

"Don't know. Anywhere is my guess."

"Okay, keep me updated."

His thumb hovered, then pressed "SAVE", hoping, no praying that this number would now be appearing on his cell phone display frequently.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you again for reading, the reviews, the add to the alerts and to the favorites.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 11**

The impetus to escape took him out of the city, away from everything he knew, away from everything that was wrong in his life, away from everything that was no longer his, away – to where, he didn't know – just away. Wind buffeted his body, squinted his eyes and chaffed his skin but he didn't feel any of it, he just rode, because that's all he had – the ride.

The ride away.

* * *

Memories assaulted her as she entered his building, but gluing her eyes to his mailbox and his alone, she pressed the buzzer and waited, then pressed it again. Not surprised that he didn't answer but with luck on her side, a resident – thankfully no one she knew – came through the door. Catching it, holding it, slipping through, she hurriedly climbed the stairs to his floor. Once there, she kept her eyes resolutely down, counting the skewed strips of light from underneath the doors – only three more to go. Click! Blocking her path were two divergent sets of shoes, stylish black boots and ratty old sneakers. She heard a key sliding into a lock, a bolt turning, her own voice, faintly saying, "Excuse me, please."

Boots sidestepping, an answering voice as distracted as her own had been faint. "Of course, I'm sorry." Then, before she could pass, "Lindsay?"

Not looking, not wanting to believe that luck had deserted her so quickly.

"Is that all you need Ms. Sandoval?"

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Jasinski. I … uhm … thank you."

Trying to sidle by Rikki on one side as the super took leave of her on the other; Rikki's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

She glared at it and Rikki, comprehension dawning, dropped it. Not sure why but her gaze followed it back to a catcher's mitt clutched to Rikki's chest, junior sized, the name Ruben Sandoval printed in childish scrawl across the forefinger, a crazy mixture of uppercase and lowercase letters, complete with an oversized R and a backwards S.

And suddenly, but understandably, connected in grief – grief over loss that had come unfairly and too early – she stared into saucered eyes rimmed in tears and whispered, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Fingers quick to whisk the tears away, accompanied by soft sniff, Rikki replied, "I … uhm …," holding the mitt away from her chest, turning it over and over, "couldn't find it … and uh, the super was kind enough to let me back in to look …" clutching the mitt tightly to her chest again, knuckles whitening, "I guess he forgot about it, pushed it to the back of the shelf in his closet, but I … I couldn't forget."

The only words she could think to say were words that she had already said, words she had heard a thousand times over in the face of her own tragedy, words so completely inadequate but the only thing she had to offer in this moment, "I'm so sorry, really, I'm so sorry."

"No, Lindsay, I'm sorry. I …"

Waving her hands frantically in front of her face, "No, no, I can't, I don't want to-" shaking her head, unwilling to give Rikki's words an ear to land upon.

"Lindsay, please, I have to say this. I have to try to put things right … please … whatever happened between Danny and me, it happened, that's all. It was nothing, nothing at all."

Dropping her hands, head stilling to stare at Rikki, anger suffusing her face, a challenging contradiction in her voice. "That's not what he said."

Rikki rushed on. "Lindsay, trust me. I know when someone's feelings are genuine and I know when someone's just trying to hide behind something that's convenient because they don't want to face the truth."

Further incensed at the implied intimacy. "And you think you know him?"

Rikki, reading her as only another woman could, "I'm sure I don't know him like you do," chancing a step closer to her, "but I know enough to know that whatever he was feeling was just an outlet for his grief and pain … because, because it was the same for me. We both made a stupid decision."

"You're right, it was stupid and it hurts me." Losing her breath almost to the point of hyperventilation, tears stinging and burning, threatening to fall, hating herself for that, so much so, she pushed it back on them. "Things will never be the same again and I want to hate you and I want to hate him for that … for everything!"

"I know, I know," Rikki soothed, letting her hand graze along Lindsay's arm until she found her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze, "but whatever you may feel about me, it isn't as important as what you feel about him. Things may never be the same again but that doesn't mean that you can't go on, build something better, whether it's together or apart. He deserves a second chance. He's a good guy, Lindsay. That I do know."

Rikki bit her lip as a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek halting when it reached her jawbone, another sliding as if on queue to take its place, then another. Suddenly Rikki dropped Lindsay's hand, voice quivering as she brushed by Lindsay, "At least you have a second chance."

And then Lindsay was staring at Rikki's back as Rikki hurried along the hall and down the stairs.

* * *

Reaching the nation's capital by nightfall, he rode on, unaware of the widening of the landscape, the deepening of the dark, the stars blinking in their acumen of him – a man on a Harely without destination – freed from the physical reminders of his troubles, but not the mental ones. The mental ones followed him relentlessly, south and east, as he rode on.

* * *

Against the unexpected late spring chill – compliments of Mother Nature who could not be directed nor controlled by man – they huddled, just inside the crime scene tape, curlicues of steam from their coffee cups no match for the ponderous gray overhanging them.

"It's been three days, Don."

"I know, Linds." Raising the cup to his lips, swallowing but not tasting, eyes focused somewhere out into the city, wondering

"I've been by his place every day." Clamping her hands around the cup, staring into the opaque brown, wondering, "His cell that I slipped under his door… it's still there."

"Yeah, I talked to the super yesterday. Says he hasn't seen him in several days."

Swiveling the ball of her booted foot into the dirt, watching the ground hollow out beneath it. "I shouldn't have shut him out when he wanted to talk."

Flack responded without hesitation. "He shouldn't have slept with Rikki when you wanted to talk."

Eyes riveting up to his rigid profile, "I know, but two wrongs don't make a right."

Resigned blue meeting desolate brown, "Well, until he shows up, there's not much you can do about it."

* * *

Destination known only when he reached it – at a point where he could go no further, a point at which the landscape melted into the aquamarine liquid which met the celestial arc which circled back, encasing him, the soft air caressing him, the bright sun warming him.

Although he had time to think, he still didn't know what to think, so he doesn't, he just is – is at the point where he can go no further.

* * *

_"Until he shows up, there's not much you can do about it."_

She doesn't have to wait until he shows up to do more about it. She can do more now and she knows it. She just has to overcome her trepidation at using her professional position for personal gain. Keying in the facts, she then waits for the information to display. Her phone rings, a New York number appears, but it's one she doesn't recognize. Resisting the urge to ignore it, she picks it up, hopeful that he's calling from some unknown location in the city.

"Detective Lindsay Monore"

But it's not him.

"Uh, of course, Rand, how are you?"

Barely cognizant of who she's talking to, she supplies the routine pleasantries.

"I'm fine. I know it's been busy and …"

And provides the evasive answer.

"Like I said I'm very happy here."

Pleading ignorance, hoping to thwart his agenda.

"But I don't see how I could help you out."

Results appear onscreen, anxious to end the call, she acquiesces.

"Okay, yeah I guess it wouldn't hurt to discuss it."

Scribbling the date, the location and the time.

"Sure, I'll see you then."

More pleasantries …

"Yeah, me too … bye."

And then she's inhaling the data – a veritable trail, along the coast until it huddles at the very tip. And she remembers what he must have remembered, or at least what she hopes he remembers. Taking that as a sign and the fact that she has the rare forty-eight hours without a scheduled shift or on-call responsibilities, she makes the necessary arrangements.

She's not going to wait until he shows up.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I've enjoyed all the discussion I've had with you readers over your take on this story. It's definitely helped me clarify and refine my thoughts as I continue to write it.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 12**

He thought he could do this for the rest of his life, sit under the sway of a Banyan tree, listening to the crash of the surf and the cry of the gulls – maybe crew on a shrimp boat during the season to bankroll his day to day living expenses for the remainder of the year. A day to day existence – not worrying, not caring, not remembering. What did New York have over this place anyway? _Never mind that question._

* * *

Traipsing through the burning sand toward the line of Banyan trees, she finally found him, leaning against the trunk of one of those silent giants, his eyes closed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting on them. In his ripped t-shirt and faded jeans he appeared carefree and relaxed, but the tired puff of his eyelids, worry creases across his forehead and around his eyes, wind burned face compliments of the three days ride told her otherwise.

Not wanting to startle him, she softened her voice. "Danny?"

He blinked twice before he turned and stared, then scrambled to his feet, his hands gesturing his disbelief. "What, what are you doing here?"

Feeling anything but, she stated matter of factly, "Looking for you."

--

He couldn't articulate another word, he could only stare. Strands of hair, tipped reddish gold by the dappled sunlight blew across her face, and her slim hand captured and secured them behind her ear. Her alabastered legs and arms were bared by the short cotton sundress – which was some color of orange; she'd probably call it tangerine or coral – but whatever the color, it bronzed her eyes.

Solemnly she crossed her ankles and sat down, Indian style. He did likewise. A million questions bombarded his mind but none of them were able to make it past the lump in his throat.

She turned her gaze away from him and to the ocean, the crash of the surf and the cry of the gulls fading as he concentrated on trying to discern her state of mind from her facial expressions and body language. They weren't telling him much.

--

Closing her eyes and inhaling the soft sea salted air she began, "Do you remember when we were processing that scene in Central Park during the frigid blast of cold last winter?"

Realizing she was waiting for him to answer, he managed to untie his tongue, "Yeah, yeah, I remember … you said you wanted to get away from the cold and the drudgery of winter in the city."

She nodded, relieved and encouraged that he remembered. "And you said we should go away together … to someplace warm."

Feeling a lift in his spirits at her recall, he added, "And lie on the beach."

Her voice grew whimsical. "Yeah and when you look out you see nothing but blue on blue."

"Blue water, blue sky."

Her head turned, her eyes soft and limpid, her smile small and sad. "Looks like you found it."

And then everything within him broke and his voice cracked. "No, I haven't found it. I've lost it, Lindsay. I've really lost it." Agitatedly running his fingers through his hair, "And I miss everything that I've lost but most of all," scrambling to his knees, hands bracing on his thighs, shoulders hunching as he bent closer to her, "Most of all, I'm sorry for everything that I've done to lose it."

She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him to her, settling back against the smooth trunk of the Banyan tree, whispering, "I know, Danny, I know."

She tightened her arms around him, soothing her hand through his hair, comforting him through the onslaught and recession of his emotions. She wasn't aware of the time passing only the point in time when he settled back against the tree trunk beside her, emotion spent, their shoulders now touching.

His need for more contact overcame fear at her possible rejection as he intertwined their hands and rested them on his knee, reveling in the contrast of his roughened and suntanned skin against hers – smooth and creamy.

And they sat, relaxing in their silent companionship, neither one willing to break the small truce that had sprung up between them.

When the sky began to burn with the golds and purples and pinks of sunset she spoke quietly but distinctly, "Tell me how it happened."

And he looked at her with a mixture of shock and repulsion on his face. 'Linds, no! Come on. Why?

But she wasn't deterred because this is what she had come here for, to let him have his say, free and clear, to get it all out in the open and deal with it. "Because you need to say it and I need to hear it."

"I don't want to hurt you, Lindsay."

"It's too late for that." She withdrew her hand from his and turned her back to the horizion, drawing her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, eyes steady on his face.

"Right." He rested his hands on his knees and stared at the ground, unable to look her as he began to recount the events. "I came off shift late that night, exhausted, wanting nothing more than a beer and to fall into bed when I ran into Rikki at the mailbox. She was a mess." He paused for a moment before locking his eyes onto hers, silently imploring her to understand. "She'd just received Ruben's official death certificate and … I just couldn't leave here there, I just couldn't, so I offered to make her a cup of tea at my place."

She deadpanned the question. "Why your place?"

"Lindsay, I don't see-"

Firmly, she reiterated, her knuckles whitening as she tightened the grasp around her legs. "Why- Your- Place- Danny?"

"Because I know where things are at, ok. I'd never been in her place more than handful of times – mostly when I was dropping off Ruben or picking him up."

Feeling a small point in his favor as she nodded at him, he continued, knowing it was going to get worse before it got better. "She barely took a sip of tea before she was sobbing uncontrollably and … all I could think about was that I was the one responsible for her for being in that state … so I held her, hoping that it would calm her down."

Her voice tightened around each word as the emotion built within her. "But that's not all that happened?"

"No," he whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "She just kept sobbing and no matter what I said she just kept saying how much she missed him and she didn't know how she was going to go on. I had to make her – and myself – feel better somehow, someway, so I kissed her and she kissed me back." He jerked, banging his head back against the tree trunk in frustration, "It was just an in-the-moment reaction of desperation, Lindsay.

The emotion within her peaking into hysteria, she flatten her tone to quell it. "And in the morning when I called?"

"She was still there."

"And?"

"Fuck me," Words muttered to himself, knowing he had to tell her the truth, even if it caused her to turn him away forever because he couldn't deceive her again – she didn't deserve that. "I talked her into staying one more time." He didn't know what to expect next from her as he took in her blank look but he tried to head it off by rushing through the next part. "But it was wrong, so wrong. And I'll-"

She exploded, the words twisting her face in disgust and loathing as she spoke them. "Jesus Christ Danny, I could almost give you the first time but why the second?" Not waiting to hear his answer, she scrambled on hands and knees away from him, eventually gaining her stance and running to the edge of the surf, halting and coiling her arms about her.

He scrambled after her, again rushing the explanation before she could put an end to the whole conversation. "Because by then it wasn't about her anymore, it was about me, the fear that the pain would never go away, the guilt at what I'd already done with her." Standing in front of her trying to catch her eyes as she pressed her chin into her shoulder in refusal. "And if I could convince her and myself that it was more than about guilt and pain ... that, that we had feelings for each other, then I could justify it happening and …" Knowing the final part would send him straight to hell in her mind, he choked it out, "and keep it happening, to keep my pain and guilt at bay."

He curled a hand around her upper arm but she jerked it out of his grasp, her words tumbling out on a wave of pain and desperation. "I don't, don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. You've ripped away my trust and completely broken my heart. What do I do now?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. This is all me, all on me." Splaying hands across his chest, "Listen. I know it was a mistake, an awful, terrible, horrible mistake. I know I hurt you and I have no right to even be asking you this but I'm begging you not to shut me out, Lindsay. Give us another chance, please. I'll do anything."

Her eyes misted at his pleading insistence which she couldn't accept, not yet, if ever. "I don't know, Danny, I just don't know. It's not just the fact that you cheated on me willingly and knowingly but it's also the fact that now I am seeing some things about you that I wasn't seeing before."

Feeling a vise clamp around his heart, dragging it to the pit of his stomach. "Like what?"

"Like the things that I love most about you are the very things about you that have hurt me the most."

"Go on."

"Your zest for the moment, your determination to make someone who's suffering feel better, your willingness to feel your emotions and your fearlessness to show or act on them, your loyalty to those you care about. Don't you see? All the things that made me feel warm, safe, special … made me fall in love with you …"

Although she trailed off, he waited because he knew the other shoe was yet to drop.

Her voice became tunneled and slightly dazed. "And actually it's a little scary too."

"What's that?" Feeling the horrendous thud coming his way.

"The fact that you can be so ruled by your emotions that you slept with another woman not once but twice, alienated your best friends and jeopardized your career," The daze evaporated, as the anger seeped in. "And all for what Danny? What did it accomplish? Do you feel better now? Because I don't, I still feel like crap and I don't want to feel this way anymore."

He wrapped his arms around her in a quick fluid movement that she didn't anticipate. "Lindsay, please let me make it better, please."

Her eyes were wild with emotional revelation and disbelief. "I don't know if you can." She twisted out of his arms, "I need some time … some space … to think," and stumbled away from him, along the beach,

He knew she wouldn't talk until she was ready, so he watched until she became but a dot in the distance and then he followed her, keeping her always in sight but granting her her desire for time and space.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Very special thanks to MariaLisa for looking over this chapter and her infinite patience with me. Additional thanks to all the readers willing to discuss the story with me. You guys have some very insightful and telling comments. Thanks for sharing.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 13**

He followed her throughout the evening. At some point she must have realized that he was following her, but she never acknowledged him. They walked down the beach, watched the sunset together, but apart, and then walked back in the fading twilight. Having her so close, yet so far was excruciating – realizing what he could lose, what he might be losing, probably what he'd already lost. The sun slipped away and so did she – to her room. He returned to his own, sat in the dark on the edge of the bed until much later when his back began to ache he laid down on it, hands crossed on his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

--

She couldn't sleep even with the cool breeze blowing through the balcony doors. The room felt too hot, too close. Her thoughts felt too jumbled, her emotions too raw. She left the bed and stood in the doorway letting the breeze billow the cotton gauze of her nightgown. She closed her eyes and felt the lightness. If only she could stay here forever, the breeze caressing her, soothing her, whispering reassurances to her.

--

Minutes before midnight he knew he had to try, had to try one more time before this day slipped away. Following the hallway to her room, he knocked soft enough so if she was asleep he wouldn't disturb her, but hopefully loud enough that if she was awake she'd hear it … and answer it.

--

Minutes before midnight she thought she heard a knock but doubted her ears until she heard it again. She crossed the room, the breeze a gentle hand at her back, swirling around her suddenly when she opened the door. It was him – wearing the same clothes he'd had on earlier, hair spiked crazily, motionless, speechless.

--

Eyes murky and owled within her peaked face, her slight body lost in the billow of her nightgown which swirled around his hand as if inviting him in. But he waited for her cue … prayed for her cue.

--

She curled a hand around the back of his neck and drew him into the room, pushing the door shut behind him with a soft click.

--

He made no advances as her eyes searched his face. The fact that she allowed him into her room was enough for him – he was totally at her whim. But when her lips touched his, lightly, testing, then firmer with intention, her other hand sliding up his chest, he only hesitated momentarily before his fervor matched hers.

--

When he returned her kiss with equal intensity, she knew there was no turning back, whatever had happened had happened and whatever was happening was happening. That's all she knew and all she cared about at this moment.

--

Her nightgown hit the floor as did his shirt and pants. On the bed, she crabbed backwards on heels and elbows and he followed her on hands and knees, an ancient dance practiced frequently and faithfully. Her soft curves cushioned his taut muscles as they moaned in mutual pleasure at the sensation. Their hands skittered across hot flesh, flushed with desire, their murmurings to each other urging and reassuring, their limbs tangling.

--

Then he was inside her, in a place he'd had little to no hope of ever being again, and he swore to himself that he'd do whatever it took to keep her, so that he would never have to leave this place again.

--

She couldn't believe how glorious it felt to have him inside her again, to come apart all around him when he exploded and filled her. It was hot, it was sweet and it released the tears of all the emotions that wouldn't seem to fade no matter how hard she had tried to reconcile herself to them.

Immediately his hands were stroking her face, lips kissing tears away frantically as he pleaded, "Lindsay, Oh god, baby, please don't cry. I love you, I love you so much and I'm so sorry. I'll make it right, I'll make it better, please don't cry, I can't take the crying."

_"I can't take the crying."_ Those words reverberated in her consciousness until they snapped the last nerve that had been holding her solid and she scrambled out from under him, curling into herself on the far side of the bed.

--

Bewildered but not deterred, he scooted after her, molding his length to hers, wrapping an arm about her waist. But she disentangled herself again, stumbling, grabbing her nightgown from the floor, skewering her arms through it, coiling them about herself, backing up to the wall.

He kneeled on the bed, hands on his thighs, the sheet twisted in between his legs, reluctant to make another move towards her just yet.

"Lindsay, honey, what is it?"

"I can't do this. I can't be with you like this."

He gestured wildly. "Why not? You just did, you just were. And it was good, no mind blowing, we were mind blowing together."

"Because I can't!" She fisted her hands in her hair, eyes closed and face contorted, squeezing her arms against her cheeks as if to ward off a blow.

He quickly disentangled his legs from the sheet and approached her, brushing fingertips across her arm to let her know he was there.

"Lindsay, I love you." Starting to worry, realizing that although he'd said it in their moments of passion, she hadn't. "And I, I … hope … hope you still love me."

--

She dropped and coiled her arms about her waist again, relaxing her face slightly, but keeping her eyes closed to what was in front of her, to what she knew she had to face.

"I do. I do love you with all my heart," whispering her admission, swiping at tears escaping beneath her eyelids, "But that's why I can't be with you," replacing her arm about her waist, fisting the gauze, "I love you so much that …" opening her eyes, staring into his, "I don't think I can get over this," squeezing her eyes closed again, lolling her head back against the wall, anguished words coming out on a sob, "and I know I wouldn't be able to take it if you ever did it to me again."

He inched closer to her, softly reassuring, "But that's not going to happen. I swear."

Eyes instantly wide and ablaze. "How can you guarantee it, Danny? You are who you are and I never thought that that would hurt me but it has – you did, you hurt me. And now I can't trust you." Pausing, loathing to repeat the words he'd used in honest passion and comfort just moments ago but affording not to, she spoke softly but distinctly, "I can't trust that you'll be able to comfort the next woman who's crying in grief and pain without fucking her."

"But Lindsay, I'll be with you." Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I am with you."

"You were with me." Swallowing hard at his obtuseness "Don't you see? You were with me."

--

He stared at her until she lowered her eyes, then he gathered his clothes and donned them quickly. Approaching, halting just within her personal space, he spoke his declaration as quietly and as distinctly as she had spoken hers just moments ago.

"You're right. I am who I am. And you've made me realize that I need to work on myself. But you've seemed to forgotten one thing about me." He stroked a finger down her cheek, "one really good thing," cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face to look at him. "My determination not to give up on something I believe in. And I believe in us, Lindsay. And I know deep inside, you do too - or you wouldn't be here."

He kissed her softly on the forehead, "I love you, Lindsay Monroe," and let his hand drift along her neck and across her shoulder as he turned to go.

--

After she heard the soft click of the door, she crumpled to the floor as the digits on the clock flipped to 12:00 AM.

* * *

**A/N: This is was the original ending that I had envisioned for this story. I know I said I'd supply an alternate ending as well and I will. It will just take me a few more chapters to do it. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: And so begins our adventure in the aftermath of the Key West Hurricane. :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 14**

She left for the airport as the sun rose, not having slept a wink, having spent her remaining moments after he had left her, absorbing all the condolences the island breeze had to offer. Barely half a day passed before she was a world away from Key West and him. And then, barely enough time left to drop her bag, shower and change before she was due to leave for the afternoon shift. Her cell rang. Eyeing the unknown number she answered reluctantly, realization dawning as the conversation progressed.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry, Rand."

"It completely slipped my mind. I had to go out of town suddenly and only got back about five minutes ago."

"Uh … pleas-, I mean bus-, neither actually, just something that had to be taken care of." Hastening to leave the topic. "But let's reschedule."

"I'm on this afternoon but off tomorrow until the afternoon."

"Well that's not necessary, really … okay, okay, you're right I owe you. Tomorrow at 11:30 then."

She sighed, hoping that her shift would end on time today, so she'd have a chance to catch up on her sleep.

* * *

"Lindsay."

She paused in the hallway.

"Don, how are you?"

"Can't complain. My shift ends soon. How about you?"

"Just starting."

"Oh, okay, haven't seen you for a couple days, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, yeah sure."

He tried to catch her eyes. "Don't sound sure."

Fiddling with her badge, reading the numbers over and over again. _8395, 8395, 8395_. "It's just been … well an eventful couple of days."

"Did you see-"

Cutting him off before he could say his name. "Yeah, he's alive, doing okay, I guess."

"And you?"

Trying to find fortitude in reading them backwards_, 5938, 5938, 5938_. "Sure." Dropping her hand away from her badge, she chanced a glance at him. "Actually, it ended badly." But added quickly, "I'll manage."

"Sure?"

She attempted a smile. "Yeah, no one's ever died of a broken heart, have they?"

Flack had better success with one of his own. "No, but they've gone MIA occasionally."

She laughed as a tear slipped free but she just managed to hold back the others.

He stepped closer, touching her arm, voice lowering. "You wanna talk, just call me, anytime, anyplace, understand?"

She nodded suddenly unable to speak.

"Promise?"

She nodded again and pointed behind her. "I uhm.. gotta …my shift is starting."

"I understand."

Returning the touch to his arm, "Thanks, Don. I'll keep it in mind."

* * *

She actually felt somewhat refreshed after the eight plus hours of sleep she'd managed the night before. Of course it wouldn't have been so deep and peaceful if she hadn't taken that Ambien. "Better living through drugs," she quipped to herself as she entered the restaurant, "But at least I can function coherently now."

Her gaze swept around the room and she saw Rand wave a hand at her. He, dropping the menu as she slid into the booth facing him, greeted her.

"Glad you could make it, Lindsay."

"Me, too … finally." She began with self-deprecating smile. "Again I'm really-"

He held up his hand, "Forget about it."

Reminiscent of their previous meeting last week – _Had it only been last week?_ – sincerity emanated from his wide smile and easy manner. Suddenly she felt more relaxed than she had for several days … and hungry. She picked up the menu, eyeing it quickly, saying "What's good here?" then glanced at him – she liked the way his hair waved away from his face and fingered his shirt collar. His blue eyes met hers. _Damn, she'd always been a sucker for blue eyes._

"Just about anything, except the tuna."

"Why, what happened with the tuna?"

"Don't ask."

She oh'ed her mouth in comprehension and sympathy, then studied the menu. They placed their ordered and the waitress removed the menus, and they made small talk, mostly him recounting tales of students weaving outlandish tales to get out of unexcused absences and missed tests. The small talk continued throughout lunch until the waitress had removed their plates, then he leaned forward, forearms on the table.

"I know that I didn't tell you much about why I wanted to meet with you."

"No, you didn't." Noticing the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, she tilted her head and smiled back, letting the lightheartedness that had stole over her during lunch infuse her tone, "Now, why is that?"

"Because," flattening palms on the table, spreading his fingers, his smile widening in response, "I figured I'd have a better chance of convincing you to accept if I could talk to you in person."

Displaying her most mock serious look, she propped her chin on her palm. "Ok, give me your best shot."

"I run a weekly symposium for all the science departments within the College of Arts and Sciences. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I've had some cancellations and I would like you to fill them."

"Fill them how?"

"By doing what you did at the career presentation last week."

She dropped her hand to the table and straightened. "But won't these be the same students?"

"Yes they will-"

"Then-"

"I want you to present a different case at each symposium meeting that mirrors the material we've been discussing in the various classes and I'd like you to conduct it as a mock investigation."

"Similar to a mock trial?"

"Exactly and additionally, I want you to bring in as many details of the working conditions as possible."

"Like?"

"Things like the weather, inconvenient timing of the occurrence of the crime, working the overtime to close a time sensitive case, all the reports required for filing and court proceedings, you know the less than exciting stuff."

"Oh you mean as opposed to the exciting stuff like the gruesome crime scene photos, bizarre twists, creepy suspects, and tense interrogations?"

"Exactly -- I can see we're on the same wavelength."

Genuinely enjoying the conversation, she laughed. And it felt good. Then she felt guilt, and it must have shown on her face for then he asked, "You okay?"

"Perfectly, why?"

"You had a moment there where-"

"It's nothing, I've just been working a lot lately, you know double shifts, overtime," _Liar! _She shrugged, starting to smooth and fold her napkin into halves then quarters, "Like you say the non-exciting stuff."

Suddenly he asked, "How long have you been a CSI?"

Relieved that he hadn't prodded for more details or worse mentioned the incident between him and Danny, she answered quickly, "Six."

"You're coming up to the high water mark."

"High water mark?"

"Average life span of a CSI before they begin to burn out."

"And you know this how?"

"Used to be one." His smile became lopsided as he admitted, "Until I burned out."

"Really?"

"Yep"

He leaned back against the booth, lacing his hand behind his head. She couldn't but notice the stretch of the fabric across his chest. _What are you thinking, Lindsay?_

"Actually worked for Mac."

Abandoning the therapeutic effects of folding and refolding the napkin as useless, she decided to concentrate on him, "So you know Mac?"

"More like he knows me … and has my number."

She laughed again. "Mac has everyone's number."

"True."

"So you burned out and then …"

"Went back and finished my PhD in Forensic Science."

"Ohhhh, so you're _Dr._ Silsbee."

"Yeah but the title is kind pretentious, don't you think?"

She purposely ignored his question, instead continuing to use his title, "Well, _Dr._ Silsbee …"

He wagged a finger at her, "Alright _Detective_ Monroe, two can play this game."

She laughed for the third time. _This is becoming a habit!_ "Ok, truce. Your proposal sounds very interesting so give me a list of the dates and times and I'll check with Mac."

While he pulled out his card and jotted the info on the back, she pulled some bills from her wallet attempting a trade for his card. Ignoring the bills in her hand, he slipped the card into her hand atop them.

"Like I said on the phone, my treat."

"But-"

"If it makes you feel any better, you can pay for the next one."

She let the question display on her face with an arch of her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "We'll have to meet to coordinate the cases and the class materials, right?"

Then she busied herself with placing her money and his card in her wallet. "That is if Mac agrees and I decide to accept."

He counted bills from his wallet and laid them on the table. "Oh, Mac will agree and you'll accept."

She ignored that comment instead grabbing her bag and rising to leave. He stood as well, towering over her, his hand at her elbow as they walked out.

"I'll let you know," she said in parting.

"I'll look forward to hearing from you, Lindsay."

Anxious to make the break before she said something to embarass herself, she supplied quickly, "Okay, bye."

He made no move to leave as she turned and walked away, and she, now that she wasn't facing him, guiltily enjoyed the warmth that crept through her at that fact.

* * *

For another three days he rode. He rode back, back to everything yet back to nothing, arriving at his apartment, inadvertently kicking something, as he opened the door. It spun across the slick wooden floor, cracking to a halt against the baseboard. He dropped his bag, retrieved it, plugged it into the charger and flipped open the lid in anticipation of its resuscitation.

Tucked inside, a micro-sized post-it note. "Call me, please. L-," written in her hand.

More questions joined the ones that already plagued him, ones that he had not been able to answer since their stormy parting three days ago – so many things in his life to fix and no idea how to successfully go about it. And now this note. When had she left it? Before she had come to Key West or after she had come back?

_Maybe he should talk to someone._


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing, and putting the story on alerts and favorites.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 15**

Mac eyed the paperwork in front him, two choices, neither one attractive but one at least with an opportunity to regain what had been lost. Ten days and counting. He'd have to make an official decision soon. He swiveled around, staring through the glass, seeing nothing but thinking of everything – everything that made sense in his life. An adherence to and a belief in a rigid tradition of tearing down boys to make way for men – men who placed honor, integrity, and the protection of those unable to protect themselves above all else. That tradition battled within him against the hollowness, and yes, even the bitterness. The tradition had failed him, had been unable to protect and save the one who would have given him sons and daughters. So now he found his sons and daughters among those he commanded and mentored. He was resigned to it, embraced it fully. But now protocol in that tradition was demanding that he cast out one of his own.

What about the dictate "Leave no man behind."?

He sighed, swiveling back to his desk, replacing the paperwork into his desk drawer. The decision would not be made today, at least not by him. His decision, if it came down to him, would come in the final second, of the final minute, of the final hour of the final day, and not without agony or disappointment. Until then, he waited, waited for someone else to take the decision out of his hands.

* * *

A wall of windows yawned before him, every one of them reflecting some version of himself – stretched, angled, twisted, contorted or morphed. Which one was him? Would he even know it if he saw it? Maybe they were all him. And maybe all he had to do in order to achieve balance and peace – regain his life – was to merge them. But the opaque surfaces disclosed no answers, imparted no wisdom. Those things resided within … had been told they did anyway … desperately hoped they did.

--

The room was as bare as before – obviously the man either wasn't staying long or couldn't give a damn about creature comforts. Danny shifted on the cold metal chair, dropping his forearms to his knees, staring at the coffee colored carpet. That's what he could use, coffee. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Rising to leave the room in search of coffee, he wasn't given the chance as the door opened and Ty entered, extending his hand as the door closed with a soft click.

"Danny."

"Ty," he returned unsure what to say, what to do, what to expect. This guy didn't fit any counselor mold he'd encountered before so maybe the less said at the outset, the better.

"Have a seat."

Ty took his characteristic stance, leaning back against the desk, palms braced against the edge.

"So what are you doing here, Danny?"

The man just didn't seem to have another line of tact, did he? Danny stared at those same dark, penetrating eyes that he'd encountered on his last less-than-helpful visit, wondering if Ty even cared if he helped him or not, wondering if Ty even cared what was going on with him, wondering what Ty would say if he just came right out and said it … said,

"I've completely fucked up my life."

There! He'd said it. Now what?

"And?" Ty replied, obviously unimpressed with the admission.

And what? And what! Was he gonna have to do all the work here? The man had a fucking psychobabble degree! What was his fucking deal?

"What the fuck is your deal, man?" Danny leaned forward, jabbing a finger into his palm to make his point. "I'm here 'cause I need some help unfucking my life, don't you see that?"

Ty smiled widely. Hooking a foot under the metal chair sitting next to Danny, he dragged it over and seated himself, legs straddling it as he draped his arms across the back.

"That's the first honest and insightful thing I've heard you say. I hope it won't be the last."

Danny threw himself back into his chair, hands flipping into the air. "Why the hell did you screw with me like that? Why didn't you just tell me that that's what you wanted to hear, instead of … instead of … putting me through all this bullshit."

Ty going nose to nose with Danny, "Because all of this bullshit is a part of it. If you can't come in here and admit free and clear that you have issues and that you want to deal with them then I can't help you." Ty paused, waiting for that to hit the deepest brain cells in Danny's head before continuing. "And you telling me what you think I want to hear won't cut it."

"Okay, Okay, I got it. Now what?"

Ty released the pressure by shifting out of Danny's personal space, encouraging the admissions from Danny to continue, he said. "Since I've already read your file we won't rehash that at the moment. Instead tell me what's been going on lately."

"Well, I lost my job."

"Ouch, but good start, how did that happen?"

"Oh I shoved some guy that was butting into a private conversation that I was having with my- I mean a coworker."

Ty snapped, "Honesty, Danny, I need honesty."

"Alright, alright, my girlfriend, actually now, according her, my ex-girlfriend, but I swear to god he was trying to hit on her."

"So you did this at your place of work?"

"Yeah and that's when Mac threw me out."

"Have you talked to Mac since then?"

"No."

"So you're not sure of the status of your job, are you?"

Danny shrugged. "Guess not."

"Okay, so your job's in limbo due to your inappropriate actions at work. How did you lose your girlfriend?"

Shit! Off all the screw ups he'd made ever in his life this one was the worst, and the one he wanted to talk about the least. But … it was the one he wanted to fix the most, so there was no other way to do it but put it out there.

"I cheated on her."

"What was it? One night stand? An affair? Get even sex?"

"Damn, you don't let up do you?"

"Just trying to see how deep you're into it."

Taking a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "It was twice and it was a pathetic attempt to block my own guilt and pain as well as hers"

"Guilt and pain over what?"

"The death of her ten year old son. He was shot and killed when he was with me." Feeling his stomach float up into his throat he struggled with the words. "It was a complete fluke. I sent him on ahead of me to go home when I stopped and intervened in a bodega robbery." Tipping his head back to focus on the water stained ceiling tiles rather than the dark and penetrating eyes that must be judging him, he finished. "I didn't know he'd been caught by a stray bullet until I saw his body in the morgue later that day."

"And how did you react to that."

This time Danny challenged those dark and penetrating eyes, "How do you think I reacted to that?" But the eyes gave him nothing and after what seemed like an eternal stare down to the death, a hand gestured for him to continue. Danny hung his head, wishing for poison instead of coffee as he stared at the carpet. "Bad, awful in fact, shut everyone out. Ditched work. Broke police protocol by not immediately bringing in the mom when she lifted my gun. Then I slept with her to try … to try." Danny dropped his head into his hands. Ty said nothing and finally Danny lifted his head, running his hands over his face in frustration. "Things were good up until that point and I just don't know how it got so fucked up."

"Yes you do Danny. You fucked it up."

Danny's mouth twisted. "Thanks for that. I can see these vists are going to help me a- lot-."

Intent on his own agenda, Ty ignored Danny's sarcasm. "Ever heard of emotional hijacking?"

Danny shook his head, a small laugh escaping deep from within his throat as visions of micro terrorists armed with cell-sized AK-47s poised in wait at the base of his brain stem for the emergence of his emotions.

"It means when a person's actions are driven by their emotions. They're hijacked. Their emotions tell them they have no other choice in the matter but to react to them."

"Yeah, that's what Lindsay said." Danny muttered more to himself than Ty.

But Ty missed nothing. "Lindsay?"

"My girl- I mean my ex-girlfriend."

"Well she's right."

Frustation and pain driving him to say things he wouldn't normally say to an almost complete stranger, "Well, she says she can't be with me because that's how I hurt her."

"Makes sense."

"So?"

"Okay here's the deal. You have to retrain your reactions. You have to become aware of those moments when your emotions overtake you then you consciously choose to react as you should react not as your emotions tell you to react."

"I dunno, it's been this way my whole life."

"Trust me, it's doable."

"So what now?"

"Well, we'll need talk more," Ty waited until he knew he had Danny's full attention before he spoke again. "And I want you to get involved in some community service."

"What you mean like picking up trash? Like some Jersey juvie working the East River? I didn't come here for punishment, I came here for help."

"Look this isn't about punishment. This is about getting involved in something outside of yourself, focusing on others. You need that to gain perspective."

"What kind of community service?"

Reaching behind him for a pen and pad of paper, Ty scribbled a name and address. "Go see this man. He's a good guy and he could use your help." Ripping the paper off the pad, Ty held it out to Danny.

Danny eyed it for moment then took it, folded it once and shoved it into his pocket.

"And I want to see you the day after tomorrow."

Danny looked at him.

Ty shrugged. "What? Like you got something better to do with your time?"

--

After the door closed behind Danny, Ty reached for the phone.

"It's Ty."

"Yeah he came in."

"If he stays on the track he's on now. He'll do okay."

"I'm working on it. How many days you got left?"

"Okay I'll have him to you before then."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry this update's been a little late in getting to you, but I've had company for the past few days.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 16**

Concentration in short supply for the case writeup spread before her on the desk, the 'You've got email' ding distracted her easily and wholly from the task. Opening the email, she scanned it quickly for the gist then read through it again for the detail.

_From: Dr. Randall Silsbee, Department of Forensic Science_

_To: Detective Lindsay Monroe, NYC Crime Lab_

_Subject: Symposium Spec's_

_Lindsay, _

_Per our lunch conversation the other day here are the desired case spec's for the upcoming symposium_

_Ligature strangulation of vic_

_Vic found at least 36 hours after TOD_

_Liquid trace at the scene requiring GCC analysis_

_If you can't find a case meeting all these spec's, pull the best representation that you have. I think in the end it will be your presentation that will make the most impact on the students, not the specific details._

_And don't forget to call if you need help in pulling this together. Enjoyed our business lunch the other day and certainly wouldn't mind a repeat performance._

_Sincerely,_

_Rand_

She bit her lip both in anticipation and trepidation at the opportunities and possibilities presented by the email. Distractions were a plus amid the wreckage of her personal life right now but complications and involvements were not.

Stella, summoning from the office doorway, broke her thoughts. "Lindsay, we're on – DB in The Village."

Closing the email, she left her desk. "Okay, let me grab my kit from the lab."

--

While Stella drove to the crime scene, Lindsay pondered her situation with Rand, and before the plan to gather more information formed fully in her mind, the words slipped out.

"Stel, how long have you been working for Mac?"

"Just about as long as I've been a CSI."

Plunging ahead since she'd already opened the topic. "So you know all the CSIs who've worked for him?"

"Yeah, I do." Stella, clued into the office scuttlebutt, skillfully directed the conversation. "Anyone particular you want to know about?"

Lindsay shrugged, "I'm going to be presenting mock cases for a symposium series that Rand Silsbee runs and you know I'm trying to … you know … get a read on him."

"A read on him? A professional read or a personal read?"

"Well both, actually."

"Actually, I don't think you have anything to worry about it. From what I hear you impressed the hell out of him a couple of weeks ago at the career presentation." Letting the teasingly sly tone creep in just a hair, she said, "In more ways than one."

"Yeah …" Lindsay had the good grace to blush but her voice tunneled. "Seems that way but …"

Stella, finding this too absorbing of a conversation to let it drop, prodded, "But what?"

"What made him leave the field?"

Stella sighed. "Look Lindsay, it's probably best if you ask him yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to bias you one way or the other. A lot of time has passed since then."

"I know. You're right." But Lindsay only halted momentarily before persisting, flashing Stella an earnest look. "But have you ever been in a situation where it would have been beneficial for you to know more than one side to the story?"

In this matter Stella could definitely relate to Lindsay's concern. If she'd only had known Frankie from other peoples' prespective she might have seen things sooner and not ended up in the horrible situation she had found herself in regards to him.

"Honestly Lindsay, from what I remember, Rand was an all around good guy, an instinctual CSI, good with people, good at the science too," tapping her finger on the steering wheel, "but he always seemed to have a knack and a nose for drama and excitement."

"Drama and excitement? Is that why he left the job?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that although I think he was already showing signs of burnout before he broke a suspects' nose during an interrogation."

"Oh, not good. What were the circumstances?"

"The suspect had beaten his pregnant wife. She lost the baby soon afterwards so the abuse case also became a murder case and that's when we were pulled onto the case."

"At least he had a good reason – I mean for punching the suspect."

"Yeah, but you and I know the rules."

"I know – no brutalizing of the suspects no matter how much you think they may deserve it."

"As hard as it may be at times." Stella empathized. Then the silence fell between them for a few moments before Stella decided to seek confirmation and to offer condolences on the other piece of office scuttlebutt she'd recently heard as well, "I'm really sorry to hear about you and Danny."

"Thanks, but it's okay, really, it's okay."

But Stella noticed Lindsay didn't break her gaze from the passenger window.

"It's not salvageable?"

"Don't think so. I think the best thing for me to do at this point is to put him out of my head … _and heart_ … and move on."

Stella counseling as gently as she knew how, "Remember how you wanted to know the other side of the story?"

"I remember."

"If you get involved with Rand, don't fool yourself into thinking that you might not be facing the same set of issues."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean those two, whether they would admit it or not, are like two peas in a pod." Stella pulled alongside a curb and put the vehicle into park. Placing her hand over Lindsay's, she squeezed it and said, "Mac always has a thing for having an emotionally driven, instinctual CSI on his team. And when Rand left, he replaced him with Danny."

Lindsay squeezed Stella's hand, "Thanks Stella, you've been a true friend."

"Anytime kiddo. Now let's go check out this crime scene. Hopefully it will be an open and shut case and we'll be out of here in record time."

--

"I guess it's just us ladies today." Angell quipped as Stella and Lindsay ducked under the crime scene tape. "DB is in the bedroom. And she's female too!" Angell called after them.

"Is it just me or do homicide detectives have a strange sense of humor sometimes?" Lindsay asked as she set down her kit and pulled out a pair of gloves, slipping them on.

Stella mirroring Lindsay's actions, replied, "I think anyone's sense of humor among other things start to be affected if you don't monitor yourself closely – particularly when you're doing a job like this."

"Yeah, I think you're right."

Approaching the victim, Stella photographed the body and the surrounding area while assessing the details of the scene, "Through and through, brain and blood splatter on the wall indicate discharge at close range. I'm betting if we dig deep enough, we'll pull the bullet from the wall."

Moments later, Lindsay dug the bullet from the wall with a self-satisfied, "Got it." After bagging the bullet and taking trace from the wall, she walked the perimeter of the small bedroom methodically. "No sign of forced entry."

"Hmmm…" Stella straightened, adding to the picture, "The killer probably knew the victim or at least had a way into the apartment… and some motivation to commit murder because this was certainly not an accidental shooting."

"Why do people commit murder?" Lindsay muttered to herself.

But Stella caught it, subconsciously answering aloud, "Because they let their emotions overrule their common sense."

"Letting their emotions overrule their common sense. Will that be the bane of my existence?" Lindsay wondered. "To always fall for men who let their emotions overrule their common sense?"

* * *

This time he rode north and east until towering glass-fronted giants that lined squirming thoroughfares gave way to expanses of dereliction and neglect which stretched along desolate streets. Dereliction and desolation nurtured by decaying humanity. Humanity robbed and paralyzed by its socio-economical boundaries, humanity forgotten and ignored by those worlds away but yet only miles away.

Lifeless shells, their orifices blinded by weathered barriers lettered with warnings – No Trespassing or Keep Out or the ironic, Trapped Animals call NYC Humane Society 888-555-PETS – tracked his progress, chanted their warning, but he wasn't listening, only riding. The sporadic life-sign with its tidy, painted surfaces and sighted but barred orifices persisted here and there among the ruin. He paid little attention to either, only enough to match the number stored in his mind, numbers more often absent than present, worn away by time and lack of resources, then finally, hope. But he deduced it by counting backwards from the one who'd survived, the one who'd kept its number – its identity – in the face of almost insurmountable odds.

A lifeless shell looming over its neighbors, flanked by sagging chain linked spaces jungled with greedy greenery. The ride at an end, he parked, and entered the dank and dark space intermittingly sliced by audacious shafts of light. Light disclosing a riddling of remnants, stories preserved in its layers, silent stories, stories now inconsequential and forgotten.

"Anybody here," he bellowed, subconsciously attempting to forestall the stories yearning to be heard.

"I'm here, hold on," a voice – minus form – answered.

A face, dark within a distant slice of light, appeared, but just as suddenly it disappeared. The succeeding slice of light revealed a spry form loping towards him, then, into the dark it went again and this time he tracked the form by the whites of its eyes. When it remerged, into the slice of light before him, it became a man, whole and alive.

"You the guy that Nalor sent over?" the man said.

Danny held out his hand. "Yeah, that'd be me, Danny Messer."

"Silas Benoit. Nice to meet ya" Pumping Danny's hand as he repeated the phrase, "Nice to meet ya … sure is. Can't tell you how happy I am to have you here, to have your help."

"Well Silas it's nice to meet ya too but this is just, just ..." _not what I want to do with my spare time _"… a mess."

"It is, I agree but the price was right."

"Oh, yeah? What's that – take it off my hands please?"

Silas' laugh escaped easily and echoed loudly. "You're a bit of a smart ass, aren't ya? But yeah – free – and with the matching funds the city put up against what the community raised, well, I feel damn lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Why sure. What a better place to start us a little community center – mainly for the young'uns, mind you – than right here in the heart of the community."

"Community?"

"Sure, sure, it's here but it just needs a safe place to come together to gain strength. To Unify. 'Cause it sure ain't gonna happen on them street corners, no sir. Them street corners is nothing but destruction to our community."

Danny panned the cavernous space wondering how much more debris was hidden in the darkness. "Do you realize how much work this is gonna take?"

"Uh huh, but this ain't nothing compared to what Hurricane Katrina did to my neighborhood down in New Orleans … and we cleaned that up too."

"New Orleans? That where you're from?"

"Yeah, but I was just stone broke after trying to recover from that mess. My sister offered me a room in her place here so I thought I could save up something without having to pay rent. Then she up and died, left me the place. It's paid for but wouldn't get much if I sold it, so here I stay. Maybe it's a sign, ya know, that I was meant to do my work here."

Danny ignoring the lofty prophecy of Silas' works stuck to practical matters. "When do the other volunteers get here?"

Silas grinned, "Good thing you got a sense of humor." He slapped a hand on Danny's back whether in condolence or jibe, Danny wasn't sure. "Come on, we gotta a lot of work ahead of us."

_Oh shit, I'm it! This space is the size of one hundred dumpsters – easily – and with just as much trash and I'm it! Shit! I think I'd rather be spearing trashing along the East River with the Jersey juvies._


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Again thank you for all the wonderful reviews on this story. I have plans for its completion so hang in there.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 17**

"Stella!" Lindsay called to Stella as she passed by.

Stella backing up a couple of steps then stepping through the office doorway, said, "What's up, Lindsay?"

Lindsay flashed Stella a glance over the computer monitor, then refocused on it. "Remember that case we had last week in The Village?"

Stella stepped around the desk."Yeah – the intentional shooting – Cilla Rasmussin. The boyfriend was our only viable suspect but without a weapon and with his airtight alibi, we couldn't make anything stick."

"Yeah, right, that's the one." Lindsay shook her finger at Stella in confirmation then tapped it against the computer screen. I've come across an interesting anomaly linking this case with another. Take a look."

Stella staring over Lindsay's shoulder, a dawning glimmer in her voice as she said. "The ballistic report from our case matches one from another case investigated a couple of weeks ago."

"Right, so the same gun had to have been used in both murders."

"Who investigated the other case?"

"I have the case file right here. I was going to look at it when I saw you walk by." Lindsay opened it and began scanning with Stella still looking over her shoulder. "The victim was Brant Cominskey, an entertainment entrepreneur."

"An entertainment entrepreneur?" Stella quipped, "Who in this city isn't?"

"Sheldon and … Danny investigated this case."

Stella, hearing the slightest catch in Lindsay's voice as she said Danny's name, discreetly overlooked it and continued, "Looks like they hit the same brick wall we did. No weapon was recovered and their most viable suspect was the wife, who also had an airtight alibi."

Lindsay closed the file. "These two cases considered together may give us a lead to solve one or both of these murders."

Stella nodded her approval. "Good work, Lindsay. So are you on it?" Pointing towards the door, "Because I have court prep to do before the courier comes for the papers at five."

Lindsay glanced at her watch. "Oh god! Yes, I'm on it, but I won't be able to get to it until my next shift. I'm on my way out to give one of the symposium presentations for Rand Silsbee."

Stella, walking towards the door, "Okay, that'll be fine, just let me know when you find out something."

"I will, I will, Stel." Lindsay, stacking files, closing her laptop.

"And Lindsay," Stella turned in the doorway.

Lindsay paused from sliding her laptop into its bag, "Yes?"

Stella smiled, her green eyes snapping. "Knock their socks off."

"Thanks Stella."

* * *

Express apologies and make amends seemed to be the catch phrase of the last couple of visits with Ty. The man had a point but damn was it going to be tough. Danny'd already tried more than once with Lindsay, three times to be exact – the locker room, the alley and Key West – and failed miserably, each time successively worse than the last.

_Three strikes and you're out, Messer!_

What had Ty said to him in regards to Lindsay, oh yeah, "Maybe she's not ready to talk." And what had he muttered in response, "Yeah, she certainly made that clear the last three times I tried to talk to her." And Ty's response that had raised the hair on the back of his neck, "This may be one you lose."

No, he couldn't believe for a moment they were truly over, not for a moment. He knew her. She just needed and space, like always. So in order to take his mind off her during the interim, and in efforts to put his best foot forward when she finally came around, he'd taken every bit of Ty's advice to heart. The community service was basically slave work but at least it gave him something physically useful to do for as many hours a day as he wanted. What had Silas said to him just the other day? "Why, we don't need nobody else when you do the work of ten men." Silas' laugh – as usual – slipping easily and loudly through the air, and believe it or not, he had laughed too, replying, "Then why don't you pay me the wage of ten men, Silas, you ol' cheapskate." And what had Silas said, oh yeah, "Now, it wouldn't be community service if I paid you." But they both knew any little bit of money Silas had was stockpiled for fixing up the place up once they'd cleared out all the trash. He figured they'd cleared about three dumpsters' worth – only ninety-seven more to go.

Sobering as he arrived at his destination, he focused on the sign on the building's front, the building soaring to the sky, the building which had been such a huge part of his life for some many years, people in that building probably closer to him most of the time than his own family. You didn't see what you saw on a daily basis and not grow close to those people who saw it with you, people who helped you cope, people, who you helped cope, people who understood you, people you understood, people who cared for you, people you cared for.

_Focus Messer … so you don't lose this too._

--

Reduced to visitor status by his rash actions of a couple weeks ago, he stood at the receptionist's desk in the lobby while she confirmed his appointment, prepared his visitor's pass and then called for an escort. He turned away from her, positioning elbows – nonchalantly as he could manage – on the high counter, watching employees pass to and fro through the security check, many he knew by face, some even by name. He didn't want to catch their attention or even make small talk but be damned if he was going to hide himself by hovering over the receptionist's desk, waiting for his pass and escort.

"Mr. Messer, here's your pass and Detective Taylor said he'd be down shortly. In the meantime you can wait over there," the receptionist informed him as she slid the pass across the counter. He fisted it but refused to noose it around his neck until the very last moment. Focusing on making his way to the seating area through the steady stream of employees passing back and forth through the security check, he didn't notice her until he was only a few feet away from her. And she must have seen him the moment he saw her, for instantly her eyes widened, her mouth gapped and her path veered away from him but her eyes did not leave his face until she smacked into one of the granite support columns. She teetered as her hand cradled her head and then he was dodging people left and right, at her side instantly, his fingers palpitating her left temple.

"Are you alright?"

Her pupils dilated, harsher black crowding the softer brown almost to oblivion, then her hand pushing his away, her voice small but determined, "I'm fine." She nimbly stepped around him, the cart, containing a file box and her laptop, following smartly but dutifully behind her as her heels clicked another message of rejection, another goodbye.

_Damn, I've got to find some way to get through to her._

"Danny."

Mac was beside him. He turned and slipped the visitor's pass over his head, extending his hand. "Mac, I appreciate you taking the time to see me."

A half smile tugged at Mac's lips, better than he expected but then again he hadn't made it to Mac's office yet, behind closed doors where all hell could break loose.

_Stay loose Messer and hope – no pray – for the best._

It was surreal – walking through the security check, boarding the elevator, pressing the button for the appropriate floor, doors opening, walking down a hallway he'd walked down a million times before, oftentimes with Mac at his side, conversing as they were now, but only in small talk, not case talk nor lab talk as they typically had. He nodded and gestured to familiar faces as they nodded and gestured to him but no one stopped to hold a conversation or even exchange 'how ya doing' pleasantries. No, it was all hurry and scurry, all business. It must be his visitor's pass, indolently swinging from his neck as he walked, taunting, "Look at me, look at me. What a fool, what a fool. Don't you see, don't you see?" And that's when he swore he'd do whatever it took to walk down these halls again free and clear of a visitor's pass.

* * *

_Taxi, I just need a taxi._

Thankful for once that the Crime Lab lined a busy thoroughfare she hailed one in with a flick of her hand. Ignoring the taxi driver as he came around to take her cart she wrestled it in after her.

"I'm keeping it with me."

The taxi driver shrugged, "Whatever lady," more bothered by having rousted himself from his perch in the front seat than her oddness at wrestling a cart into the backseat.

After she gave the driver her destination, she sunk back, rubbing her temple, the one that had met with the unforgiving surface of the granite column. _Smooth, Lindsay, real smooth!_ She was under no illusions as to why Danny had been in the lobby of the Crime Lab. She steeled herself for the inevitable – his return to the lab. For all the pain and grief he had caused her, she certainly couldn't deny him his opportunity to make a decent living in this city. She of all people knew how tough it was to get by. Dropping her hand to her lap, she was still amazed how much it was still trembling – how much his glance, his voice, his concern, his touch affected her. Her avoidance tactics were not working. She'd have to find another way to cope, to rid her mind and heart of him.

* * *

"Have a seat, Danny."

As relief at having survived the gauntlet down the hallway to Mac's office, sagged his knees, he fell heavily into the chair in front of the desk. Odd it was larger than he remembered, but the stern look on Mac's face was exactly as he remembered it. _Screw up with Mac and you're screwed._ He ran a hand up and over his face, giving his neck a brief massage as he straightened, ready to take anything Mac threw at him. That's how much he wanted back into the lab, back into his life, back to …. The rustle of paper halted his thoughts as Mac removed two separate stacks from his desk, arranging them carefully side by side. Touching one then the other as if gleaning some wisdom or knowledge – or confidence – from them, Mac finally looked at him and spoke.

"Danny, I have two options for your job here at the lab."

"Mac, I'd be grateful for anything that you can give me. I'm just ready to come back. I want this job. I need this job. I-"

Mac held up a hand, he halted his blithering flow.

"First, just listen and then, I want you to think, really think before you make your decision."

Danny nodded, he understood, he'd been working on that – thinking before reacting.

"That day I ordered you out of the lab, I took the liberty of filing vacation leave for you, which amounted to roughly two weeks. Today is the last day of your vacation."

Relief flooded through him as he responded. "Mac, I can be back on duty first thing tomorrow, tonight even, I'm ready."

Mac's lips disappeared for a moment before he continued. "Not so fast Danny. You can't come back so easily. I need proof that you've changed for the better, that you can reasonably control your emotions."

"I swear Mac, I'm working on it. I've been seeing Ty like you recommended – he's really a great guy all in all, really helping me – and I'm doing community service, bet you never thought you'd see me doing that and it's a shit detail but I'm doing …." His voice trailed off at Mac's apologetic look.

"It won't be that easy."

"You're right and it shouldn't be." He gestured at Mac to continue finally just wanting to get this over with once and for all, "What do I have to do?"

"Two options – the first is medical leave for up to three months but with pay and your return is contingent upon a thorough psychological evaluation but it goes into your file which further limits your ability to be considered for promotion. This gives you a ways and a means to really work on your issues, to insure greater success."

"And the second?"

"Unpaid personal leave for a month. You continue with Ty and anything he recommends. He'll keep me posted on how things are progressing. At the end of that month, we all meet and I make my decision. But if I decide against your return, I file the termination papers and you'll agree to take no legal recourse against me or the lab. If I approve your return, then you'll be reinstated with merely a note of reprimand in your file. But," Mac paused here, carefully considering his words before he spoke again, "but be forewarned Danny, I'm going to be very stringent about seeing progress and I _will know_ if you aren't towing the mark."

Danny rubbed a hand along his jaw. _Think, think, think!_ But there really wasn't anything to think about. It was clear to him that there was only one option. He'd worked too hard to be held in one position for the rest of his life, to be at the mercy of some candy assed IAB psychological review – even if he was getting paid in the interim – to watch his life spiral down the drain with a loud suck and a shuddering sigh.

"Second option, Mac, hands down."

"You sure, Danny, you didn't think about that very long."

"Sometimes you don't need to think very long. Where do I sign?"


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Special thanks to Marialisa for her thoughts on this chapter. Thanks to everyone else for reading, reviewing and putting the story on alerts and favorites.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 18**

Determined to beat the dull throb at her temple into submission, she groped through her bag for the bottle of Advil and gulped three of them down with the bottle of water Rand had brought to her as she had set up her presentation. The students were now filing into the lecture hall that held at least three times as many students as the conference room at the lab had. For a moment she wondered what part of her sanity had agreed to this but as the room fell silent with Rand's introduction, she focused on the case – as always – and anything else that was on her mind was swept into the background.

* * *

"Thanks, Mac," Danny extended a hand to Mac, "for everything."

Mac clasping it sturdily, said, "Just give it your all, okay. There's nothing I want more than to see you back at the lab."

Mac turned away and Danny turned away just as quickly unwilling to watch Mac's back as it disappeared into the elevators, refusing to believe as he yanked the visitor's pass over his head that he wouldn't be back – minus the visitor's pass.

"Danny?"

"Stella?" Turning toward the friendly voice, more than a little relieved to see someone familiar who was actually happy to see him.

They exchanged a quick hug as she said, "Will you be back in the lab soon?"

"Yeah, yeah, in a month or so. I gotta couple things I'm doing right now but soon as those are finished up …"

Stella, smiling and nodding, "That's good to hear. I only came down to drop these court papers off for a courier pickup, so it must have been fate to run into you."

"Yeah, guess so." Ready to be on his way, yet in some perverse yearning to know more, he said, "How's everyone in the lab?"

"Everyone's fine …" Stella tilted her head a little to the right, "as far as _I _know."

She let the unspoken question settle between them, shifting her weight as she propped her elbow on the counter, waiting.

He did likewise. "Yeah, well, what do you know?"

"Just what I hear." She shrugged but her eyes focused intently on his, "You gave Rand Silsbee a shove after Lindsay's presentation and Mac threw you out. It's been a couple of weeks, Lindsay seems okay, but …"

Danny winced at her directness but decided since she'd brought it up it wouldn't look so obvious if he'd dug a little deeper.

"Yeah, that's about the way it went down. So …" Casting a glance around the lobby, trying to pretend he was less interested than he was, "I saw Linds on the way out earlier today, hauling her laptop and a file box." He let his unspoken question hang in the air, hoping Stella would come through for him.

"She's doing a series of mock case presentations at the university." Stella watched closely as she added. "She seems to have really turned Rand's head with that career presentation she did for his students."

"That wouldn't be hard," he muttered recalling how impressed he himself had been with Lindsay's presentation coupled with what he knew about Rand Silsbee.

"Really Danny, you should be glad for her. This is a real opportunity for her."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it is but that's not …" Unwilling to admit his uneasiness or get into a discussion with Stella that might lead to places he'd rather not go he ended it. "Never mind. It was good seeing you Stel but I gotta get going."

"Me too. Take care, Danny."

* * *

At the behest of the incoming evening class, the last of the symposium students reluctantly cleared the lecture hall. Rand's smile widened across his face as he took the stairs two at a time down to her as she began gathering her materials from the podium. "Congratulations, Lindsay, I've never seen such an attentive and interactive audience at one of these symposiums since I took over running them."

She managed a faint smile, glancing at him as she packed the last of the materials into the file box, "I'm ecstatic that it went so well, but relieved that it's over." She knelt to the floor to slide her laptop into its bag, adding, "And exhausted." She brushed the hair back behind her ear as she stood, and winced as Rand touched her temple.

"What happened there?"

She quickly angled her head out of his reach, avoiding the blue pierce of his eyes by turning to load the cart.

"Nothing."

He took the box out of her hands, and finished loading the cart for her as he said, "It doesn't look like nothing."

"It is. Really. It's nothing."

"Okay if you say so." His easy manner coming to the forefront, he shrugged and changed the subject. "Let me buy you dinner."

She shook her head, "Thanks for the invite, but," absently touching her bruised temple before she realized it, "I just want to go home and sleep."

He wrapped his fingers around hers as he pulled her hand away from her temple, affording him quick scrutiny of the bruise during her distraction of her hand suddenly in his.

"Okay, I can see you're tired but my place is right off campus. At least let me fix you something to eat before you head home. It's the least I can do."

He gave her no time to protest as he grabbed the cart with his free hand and led her from the lecture hall. Exhausted as she was and as warm and comfortable as his hand felt around hers, she followed without another word.

--

She wasn't aware of much as she sunk back into the deeply cushioned couch in Rand's apartment. She swallowed more Advil with the last of the water from the bottle actually relieved and grateful that she could relax and forget about everything as the appetizing smell of bacon and eggs wafted from the kitchen. He'd apologized for the dinner fare but she'd only murmured her thanks as he had waved her toward the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

She must have drifted off for his hand on her shoulder awakened her from a dream that she tried to recall but quite couldn't.

"Here," placing the plate into her hands, "eat up, and you'll feel better."

He sat at the other end of the couch, chatting intermittently and casually as he ate. She said little but ate ravenously, hoping he didn't think her rude when she merely said "Uh huh" and "Oh, how interesting," at what she hoped were the appropriate places in the conversation. Suddenly feeling better than she had since she'd smacked into the pillar, she slid the empty plate onto the coffee table and tucked her feet under her as she arched in a stretch, arms above her head and then dropped them back to her sides. "Thanks that was delicious." And then she couldn't help herself as she flashed him a toothy smile. "I think it's exactly what the doctor ordered."

He grinned. "Don't start, Detective." Stacking the plates, he carried them to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Join me for a beer?"

She craned her head back to answer and conveniently caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders just before they disappeared into the kitchen. "Sure."

He returned, handing her the bottle as he sat next to her on the couch. Clinking his bottle to hers, he said, "May we share many more together."

She eyed him as she took a swallow, sucking the ice cold liquid completely to the back of her throat before allowing the chill to slide down. "That sounds nice."

"Just nice?"

"Sorry, that came out wrong."

He leaned forward, settling his forearms on his thighs, rolling the bottle back and forth between his palms, "Look Lindsay, I think I've been obvious about my attraction to you, the fact that I'd like to spend some time with you."

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

He looked back over his shoulder at her. "No, I've learned to get things out on the table. It cuts down on the confusion and misunderstandings."

She nodded and pressed the bottle to her lips for another swallow. He straightened, mirroring her action then shifted the bottle to one hand as he brushed back the hair from her bruised temple and said, "That's why I need to know about this."

This time she didn't angle her head away but allowed his fingers to stay there as he gently traced around the bruise. His touch felt good and she wanted to feel good. She closed her eyes and let herself feel that for a moment before she murmured.

"You could say I wasn't watching where I was going."

His fingers stilled as he slid them into her hair. "Uh huh. What were you watching?"

She opened her eyes, looking directly into his. "Not what, who."

"Who then?"

But then she looked down which forced his fingers deeper into her hair. She began to trace the rim of the bottle with an index finger.

"A guy, a guy I'm trying to forget."

He trailed his fingers down her cheek cupping her chin, lifting it, not asking but stating, "The guy in the lab who shoved me."

She knew she shouldn't stare into the blue of his eyes but she couldn't help herself. "That's the one."

"How's it working?"

"What?" She blinked a couple of times. "It's not."

Suddenly she realized his face was so close that she felt his warm breath across her cheek as he said, "Forgetting can be hard." Her gaze slid downward to his lips. She smelled the yeasty flavor of the beer on his breath. Or was it her breath? She couldn't tell anymore. And then the view of his lips disappeared as her eyelids drooped but she felt them – against hers. And it felt good and she wanted to feel good.

Letting his hand drop and curl around her neck, his thumb stroking the triangular hollow in her neck, he said softly, "Sometimes you need help forgetting."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Many, many thanks to those who continue to read and review. Your thoughtful comments give me perspective and alternative angles as I continue to think my way through this story and write the ensuing chapters. Thank you so much for taking the time. It is greatly appreciated.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 19**

She awoke with a start, blinking at the tentative gray of the early dawn fingering through the slats of the blinds, desperately trying to grasp what had been playing inside her mind just moments prior. It was familiar and it was important; the thump of her heart and the shortness of her breath told her that. But now in her consciousness it was elusive; only the image of a hand reaching for her – whose she did not know, and the sound of a voice calling to her – it was muffled, remained. And she wanted to know, needed to know, felt it was imperative to know and yet the only way to know was to drift … back … into … sleep.

* * *

Half-sitting, half-standing against his Harley, waiting for Silas to arrive and unlock the place, Danny watched the kids playing stick ball in the street, their shadows stretching long, charging ahead of them, as they approached first base then rounded second, changing to a chasing gallop behind them as they tapped third and then stomped (for sliding was out of the question on asphalt) home plate triumphantly amid congratulatory cries from fellow teammates and in-your-face trashing talking to the opponents.

Silas approached him from behind. "You're here early."

Danny glanced around at Silas and shrugged, "What else I got going on right now? Except be here … hauling trash." He folded his arms and concentrated on the stick ball game again.

"Uh oh, that meeting yesterday with your old boss-"

"Nah, it went great." He broke his concentration from the game, giving Silas a serious look. "But bad news for you, Silas."

Silas shifting a package from under his right arm to under his left, the worry wrinkles stacking up from his eyebrows to his hairline. "What's that?"

Danny paused a moment to heighten the tension then grinned, slapping Silas on the back, "You're stuck with me for another month."

Silas wagged a finger at him. "As my Grand-maman Valmont always used to say, 'It don't pay to be a wise acre'."

Danny laughed from somewhere deep inside himself. "Sounds like my Nana Tucci."

"And compliments of my Grand-maman Valmont – God rest her soul – I brought us a mess of boudin." Silas now held the package in both hands, reverently lifting it towards Danny's nose.

"Boo-dan?" he questioned, whiffing then agreeing with a full-blown inhale, "Whatever Boo-dan is – my compliments to your Grand-maman Valmont."

"Sausage – Cajun style. It's her own special recipe passed on to my momma when I was just knee high to a grasshopper and then to me when my momma passed – God rest her soul."

"Silas, you cook?"

"Always, besides there ain't nowhere to get boudin in this neighborhood."

"Break it out, I'm hungry."

"Now, hold on!" Tucking the package securely under one arm again, swinging the other wide through the air in mock reprimand, "What have you been doing since you been here? The place looks exactly as I left it yesterday."

"I can't do anything until you unlock the place – but I don't understand why you lock it," Danny jibed, then absentmindedly added, "Not like there's anything to steal," as a cry of "Striiikkkeee One" echoed from street.

Silas' gaze shifted, following Danny's, commenting, "Them young'uns been at it just about every afternoon since I've been here – and today – early morning on a school holiday like today; they're hard at it again."

"Yeah, I've been noticing that, but you see that tall skinny one that's pitching?"

"Uh huh, that's Jamal Wilkinson. His granny works for the borough offices."

"Okay well, Jamal's torque on his windup is all wrong. It's gonna sideline him with a shoulder injury before he even gets old enough to try out for the high school team."

Silas saw Jamal palm his shoulder after he released the pitch. "Uh huh, I shore do see that."

"And that little kid batting?"

"That'd be Jamal's little brother, Jawan."

Danny straightened a little and rubbed his hands together. "Watch this."

Jawan, following the bat in a wild swing at the ball, twirled furiously in full circle.

"Striiiikkkeee Two!" The catcher, who was no taller than Jawan, but definitely stouter shouted at the top of his lungs with all intonation of the showiest of umps.

Danny gestured toward the young batter, "See that – rookie mistake – little brother Jawan is closing his eyes at the last second and throwing his weight into the swing instead of holding stance and following through."

Jawan hiked the bat above his shoulder, facing the catcher in frustration, "Shut up Denton, you're just showing off."

"So what are you waiting for you little pisser?" Denton taunted back. "I bet you can't even hit me with that bat and I'm ten times the size of a baseball."

"Try a hundred times bigger, you fat-sucking nigger."

Danny and Silas leaped into the street, Silas grabbing the stout kid around the middle and the neck, dragging him backwards a couple steps while Danny stepped in front of Jawan stalling the swing of the bat with his palm.

"What the hell? Get out of my way," shouted Jawan, giving the bat a jerk trying to dislodge it from Danny's hand. Danny could hear Denton behind him, scuffling against Silas' restraint, shouting, "Let me at the little pisser, I can take him even with a bat in his hand."

Danny remembered those days as the little brother, the tag along, the runt, the constant fight to be better, to be accepted – all for a chance to join in and play. He also remembered the rush of disappointment, frustration, even anger as he lashed out trying to assert his position in the hierarchy of the neighborhood boys and he saw it now, in Jawan, as Jawan twisted his grip on the bat, strengthening his resolve.

"Easy Jawan." Danny warned quietly, "You could do a lot of damage with this bat."

"Exactly what I wanna do."

"No it isn't." Danny said, recalling his own reaction to a taunt, throwing the punch that broke his wrist, sidelined his bid with the majors, ended his baseball career. "You got too much talent to waste on going to juvie hall for beating a hot-aired numbskull like him in the head." Danny jerked his head back in the direction of Denton, who'd finally been secured by Silas but still couldn't resist shouting, "The little pisser's full of shit!" But then added a yelping, "Shit old man, whyddya gotta do that for?" at Silas' momentary tightening of his choke hold on the stout little fellow.

Teammates now tightened in around Danny and Jawan, causing Jawan to bite his lip in a frustrated tug of war between two fears – the fear of losing face in backing down or the fear of losing his life as he knew it if he did inflict serious damage on Denton. It gave him pause to finally say, "Whaddya you know about it?"

"Let go of the bat and I'll show you," Danny said, but made no move to step closer to Jawan or wrest the bat away from him.

Jamal, the older brother, stepped forward from the throng, waving a hand at Jawan, "Come on Jawan, let it go. Maybe he know something we don't, you know help us with our game."

Jawan shed the crouching tenseness, loosening his grip on the bat as he straightened, suddenly confident in his position as the one to give the go ahead. "Okay, but it better be worth something."

"I promise you it will." Resting the bat on his shoulder Danny gestured around the group of doubtful onlookers, "Alright, back to your positions." Emphasizing with a point of the bat, he said, "You're gonna need to be waaayy out there," then swinging it from shoulder to shoulder a couple of times, more for show than anything else, he crouched next to home plate waiting for Jamal to reach the brick denoting the pitcher's mound. He tapped the bat on the old asphalt shingled denoting home plate. "Send it right over here Jamal and I bet ya I hit it to the end of the block."

Jamal, pitching hand behind his back, spinning the ball in his palm with each thrust of his thumb, challenged, "What's the bet?"

Danny straightened, resting the bat on his shoulder again, shouting back to Jamal, "If I hit it to the end of the block, you and your friends gotta help Mr. Benoit clean out this building for the day."

"Shit!" A kid in right field yelled, "I ain't gonna haul trash for some old man for no pay."

Both Danny and Jamal ignored the grumbling from the rest of the players that signaled their agreement with the dissenter in right field.

Jamal shouted back, "And if you don't?"

Danny would be the first to admit the kid in right field had a very strong point, but still, sensing Jamal was the one who ran the show, he countered, "I teach you everything I know about baseball." He waited silently for a few moments, leaving the decision to Jamal, but then in the spirit of friendly competition, he couldn't resist a little bit of good natured challenging himself. "Whaddya say Jamal? You up for it? Can you strike me out before I can connect on a clean pitch and send it to the end of the block?"

Jamal finally gripped the ball in agreement. "Alright."

Throwing a serious look over his shoulder at Denton, who'd since been released from Silas' choke hold and was now squatted into catching position, Danny admonished, "Call 'em clean, okay … or I'll sic Silas on you again."

Denton glanced warily at Silas; Silas flashed him a pearly-white baring grin and Denton nodded vigorously at Danny, "Ya got it."

"I'm ready. Throw out your best pitch, Jamal."

Jamal lifted his leg, drew back his arm and released a pitch that on the follow through sailed precisely over home plate, perfectly level with Danny's swinging arc. The resulting crack drew everyone's eyes skyward as the ball flew a good hundred yards beyond the end of the block before it smacked onto the pavement, bounced once off the curb and complacently rolled into a storm sewer.

Danny grinned holding out his hand as Jamal approached him, "Perfect pitch, man, but … sorry about the baseball, I owe you one."

"Shit, man, forget about it. I just wished … any chance ..."

"Sure, sure, anytime you and your friends work for Mr. Benoit, I'll work with you guys on your game, okay?"

Jamal grinning in agreement, taking Danny's hand, "Sure … Mr? …"

"It's Danny, just call me Danny. Now round up your friends, Mr. Benoit and his mounds of trash are waiting for you."

* * *

Much later, awakened from her dreamless sleep by sunlit rays fanning across her face, her eyelids fluttered two or three times, lazy and hazy, until she stretched, long and arching, like the slinkiest cat, muscles releasing completely. No answers were forthcoming in her mind, only memories of last night, front and center – the conversation with Rand, debating the merits of forgetting versus dealing, which had been held between sips of beer and light kisses.

_His hand curled around her neck, his thumb stroking the triangular hollow in her neck as he said softly, "Sometimes you need help forgetting." _

_Her hand light against his chest, feeling his warmth through his shirt, as she raised her eyes to his, questioning, "Forgetting before resolving? Is that the right way to go about it?"_

_His hand slid under the curtain of her hair, fingers stroking lazily through it. "Who knows? It could turn out to be the right way … the right thing … for both of us."_

_She shook her head lightly from side to side, "I don't know. This isn't like me … to jump in ... " eyes finally closing, trailing off at the sensual wave that stole over her with every stroke of his fingers through her hair._

_His hand fisted into her hair just enough to angle her head back, "Maybe you should try it … you might surprise yourself." His lips dropped to hers again, warm and persuasive, the good feeling creating a spin in her head … or was the spin due to knock to her temple?… or the beer?_

_She sighed as the kiss broke, pressing her forehead to his, her voice sounding with an unexpected quaver. "I'm not sure I can handle many more surprises."_

_His hand dropped to her shoulder and he pulled back, looking at her intently, "Look, I don't want you to do something you aren't ready to do."_

_She looked away quickly, swigging from her bottle of beer to cover her embarrassment – her embarrassment in appearing as some needy teen-ager unsure of how to deal with her feelings. Turning back to him once she had swallowed, she resolved to be as direct as he had been with her. "The bottom line is that I have this unresolved relationship … and ..." She titled her head slightly, an imploring note coloring her tone. "And doesn't that bother you? That you may get involved with someone who really isn't ready to be involved?"_

_Again his hand curled around her neck, thumb stroking, "Maybe, I'm willing to take the risk."_

_"Why?"_

_This time he took a contemplative swallow of beer before answering her. "Honestly, after being around bubble-headed co-eds and stiff-necked scientists types for the past several years, you're a breath of fresh air." He shrugged, taking another swallow of beer before continuing. "Maybe I don't want to risk losing the opportunity. Other than that, I haven't thought much about it. I just know how I feel … I'm attracted to you, I like you and I want to spend some time with you, get to know you." He paused, and when she said nothing, a slightly wicked look – a cocked eyebrow and sideways smile – came over his face. "And who knows? It may be exactly what the doctor ordered."_

_She laughed lightly. "Okay, but I can't promise you anything."_

_He held his hands up in surrender. "Not asking for a promise, just a chance."_

_Placing the beer bottle on the coffee table, she said, "Well, I better get going. You know busy day and all-"_

_"Yeah me too, busy day, I'll call you a cab."_

Before she'd slipped into the cab, he had wrapped her in his arms, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, her hand soaking up the warmth of him through his shirt. And it had felt good.

But would it be good enough?


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your very thoughtful comments and reviews but as of late, particularly, ReJo, cbarkins, Marue61, Pandora72 and foxdvd. They've been insightful to say the least.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 20**

"Sheldon, wait up." Lindsay called, quickening her step to catch up to him as he paused to wait for her.

"Lindsay, how you doing?"

"Fine, Sheldon, fine. And you?"

"Good."

Not wasting any more time on pleasantries, she launched into the matter at hand. "Do you remember a case you worked a few weeks ago where a man was shot in the heart? A through and through?"

Hawkes rested an elbow in the palm of his hand as his fingers tapped against his cheek, eyes staring vacantly down the hallway. "It sounds familiar …"

"The crime scene was an upscale hotel room, the murder weapon was never recovered and the main suspect was the wife who ended up having an airtight alibi."

"Now I remember that one." Still hooked into the memory playing in his mind, Hawkes shook his finger in remembrance. "That's the case where Danny took a swing at Flack over his comment about the vic deserving what he got. And afterwards I had to patch up Danny's …" Hawkes trailed off when he returned from his memory to catch the look of pain and confusion on Lindsay's face. He quickly tried to cover his blunder. "But it was nothing … they-"

The pain on her face drained into her words as she said, "Tell me the truth. It wasn't just nothing, was it?" It all made sense now. Danny and Flack had their altercation soon after she'd spilled her guts to Flack about Danny sleeping with Rikki. That's why Danny's hand had been bandaged when he'd tried to talk to her after her presentation to the university students … and then …

"Lindsay, I'm sure …" Hawkes herded her towards the perimeter of hallway out of the crowd of people who seem to flow around them as if they weren't there. Lowering his voice, comforting, "Honestly, I don't know what it was about. Neither one of them said anything else about it."

"It was about something, Sheldon. Trust me, it was about something." Mortified at the revelation of the permeation of her and Danny's fallout into all aspects of her life she fiddled with the label on the file in her hand, muttering, "And I only made it worse by not dealing with it immediately."

Hawkes gave her arm a squeeze. "It's not your responsibility to anticipate and control other people's reactions." Not sure if he was helping or hindering he took a chance anyway in trying to reassure her. "Besides, we both know Danny can react to his emotions on a whim, regardless of how much one may try to intervene and head it off."

She bit her lip, wrapping her arms about her as she answered. "Yeah I know that only too well." Carnal images of Danny reacting to his emotions flooded her mind.

"How about I get you a cup of coffee?"

Knowing she had to block the images or risk losing the grip on her own emotions she floundered for control, "No thanks, I … umm …" then found her foothold by escaping abruptly into the case. "Stella and I had a case recently in The Village where the ballistics results matched the ballistics results of your case."

Taken aback momentarily by her sudden switch in gears, he finally regained his equilibrium enough to ask, "You mean as in … the same gun?"

She nodded. "Exactly, so I was wondering if we could get together and go over the two cases, see if we can find another link between the two? It might give us a clue in solving them."

"I'd be happy to put our heads together on this one, but I'm on my way out to a crime scene. How about when I get back?"

"Oh sure, that would be fine. Thanks Sheldon."

She waved the file at him, turning to continue on her way, anxious to be away from him. His patient, empathizing bedside manner was too comforting. Another moment and not only would she have lost her composure but she would have freely admitted how wrong and stupid it had been to become involved with a coworker. The pain, the trouble, the suffering not to just her and Danny but to all those around them; it had been too great and she declared a new, hard and fast rule: No involvements with coworkers. Ever. End of Story. Period.

* * *

"And Silas said, 'Feed them young'uns the boudin if they're hungry. They been working hard all morning." Danny shook his head, running his fingers underneath his glasses to squeeze the tears of laughter from his eyes, uncontrolled mirth coloring his next comments, "But you should have seen his face when they descended on his precious sausage and all but inhaled it in five mintues flat." Imitating Silas' indignant facial expressions which put a rare smile Ty's face, Danny mimicked Silas' fervent offense, "Them young'uns have no appreciation for the hard work I put into this here boudin. I'd do just as well to feed 'em them cheap Oscar Meyer hot dogs from the supermarket."

"Silas always did take great pride in his cooking." Ty said.

"I have to admit it was damn good boudin. I only wished I'd gotten more than one link myself, but there were too many of them and only one of me."

Ty reached behind him for the file on his desk, paging through it as he said, "So I see you've made some inroads into the community – gaining some extra help for Silas and giving something of yourself by helping those kids with their game."

Danny sobered, shifting a bit in his chair at the turn back into the serious. "It's nothing, really. It's how I grew up, you know, playing baseball. It was a way of staying out of trouble … a way out of the neighborhood."

"Maybe so, but you've found a way to use it to benefit others. That's the kind of thing that I'm talking about, getting involved in something outside of yourself. It's another step in the right direction." Ty scribbled a note in his file before fastening his dark eyes on Danny once again. "And you have a plan in place with Mac for returning to your job … anything else?"

Suddenly feeling irritated at the indirect reminder of what he hadn't accomplished, he snapped without intending to, "Isn't that enough?"

Ty remarked coolly, "Don't take offense, Danny. While you've made great progress you only have little less than a month so I have to be thorough."

Danny ran one hand followed immediately by the other through his hair, spiking it crazily. "Nothing else at the moment."

"You seem unsettled about that."

Danny immediately recognized that comment as one of those questions that Ty always managed to disguise as an open ended statement. And as the silence stretched and the dark eyes stared, he knew he wouldn't be going anywhere until he acknowledged it in some manner – even if it was just a simple no. But the kicker was that Ty had this uncanny ability to know when the simple no wasn't the true answer. And he couldn't risk screwing anything up at this point – time was too tight. Dropping his arms to his thighs, into his now characteristic disclosing posture, he stared at the carpet. It was as ugly as sin but it seemed to have some magical impetus for forcing difficult admissions from him.

"It's Lindsay. Ran into her a few days ago … barely spoke to me before running off as quickly as she could. I've already told how sorry I am several times but how can I begin to make amends if she won't even talk to me or be around me?"

"She may need more time."

"Yeah, but how much more time?"

Ty shrugged. "That's anybody's guess, but …"

Danny recognized this as another one of Ty's tactics – eyes on me before I shed any more light on that matter. Still feeling irritated, he allowed only the merest craning of his neck – just enough to see Ty's face – and waited, unsure if that was going to do the trick but willing to give it a go.

Ty closed the folder and tossed it to the desk behind him then folded his arms across his chest, matching the waiting.

After another lengthy pause in which Danny's neck started clench in pain at the awkward position, he finally acquiesced with a heavy sigh, straightening in the chair, staring Ty full in the face. "But what?"

"Sometimes actions speak louder than words."

"But if she won't even be around me-"

"You seem to be a resourceful guy." Ty glanced to the right behind Danny's head and announced. "Our time is up."

_Shit!_ He twisted his neck around to confirm the appointment was officially over. _How does he do that?_

* * *

_"You seem to be a resourceful guy."_

Okay, Ty Nalor, I hope this is resourceful enough! He slipped through the door of the building, taking the stairs two at a time anxious to accomplish his mission without running into her. He positioned the bundle in front of her door then backed away a couple of steps, eyeing it warily.

_"Sometimes actions speak louder than words." _

I hope this speaks to you Lindsay Monroe – in the right way. And then he turned, leaving their fate to his actions.

* * *

Her breath came short and shallow at the disconcerting sight at her apartment door – a package wrapped in sky blue tissue paper encircled by a simply tied ribbon of deeper aqua blue. Her hand trembled as she picked it up, the paper crinkling loudly in the deserted hallway. Her eyes misted when she peeled back the paper, yellow centered eyes winking gaily at her, masses of arching white petals waving a thousand greetings. But her legs buckled when she withdrew the small white card, reading the achingly familiar scrawl –

Do you still believe in us?

I do.

Always.

Danny


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Special thanks to Marialisa and Bluenose for their thoughts on this chapter. If you don't like the outcome, blame me, I made the final call. :) Thanks as always for all the wonderful feedback you've given me on this story, I appreciate it so much.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 21**

At first she cried, as she carried the bouquet inside, but why, she wasn't quite sure. Was it in relief? Happiness? Hopefulness? When her tears had ceased, she cut the stems and whimsically arranged the daises in a vase. Folding the sky blue tissue paper in quarters, she placed it under the vase delighting in the swirl of blue reflecting throughout the water. As a finishing touch she tied the ribbon around the vase, propping the card up against it.

What to do next, she had not a clue. How to answer him – text, telephone or in person? And what to say? What to think? What to believe? Should she magically be able to forgive him, to trust him, to even consider the risk of having her heart broken again if she couldn't?

So she waited. And every morning when she left that bouquet of flowers and every night when returned to it she asked herself what she should do, but she couldn't decide for the emotions she felt were never the same way twice in a row. And that scared her. It scared her that she wasn't sure about something so important when she had been so sure about it before – before everything with Rikki had happened, that is.

He may believe in them but could he be committed to them? She didn't know the answer to that, didn't know if she had the courage to find out the answer and possibly incur more heartache. And at that thought she became angry. Angry for all that he'd done, for the way he'd shut her out – even though she could understand it to an extent – but to shut her out not because that's _what_ he'd really needed, but because he hadn't been honest that she wasn't _who_ he had needed until after the fact. And she wondered if she could ever forgive or forget that.

So there the flowers sat day after day, spouting their mantra of 'fresh as a daisy' for an entire week until there was only anger, pain and despair that raged through her when she looked at them. That's when she shoved them into a kitchen cabinet that was rarely opened. Now she didn't have to face what they represented or meant to her … didn't have to think about what she was going to say to him … didn't haven't think about how she'd crumble the next time he broke her heart .. didn't have to think about him or them at all.

Besides she had things to do, places to go and people to see.

* * *

"Lordy, look who's a comin'"

Danny layered his hands on top of the broom handle as he regarded Silas with amused interest. Silas spit shined his hairless head and hastily tucked his shirt in before stepping to the doorway.

"Why, Ms. Roselma, what brings you by today?'

"Silas, I've come to check out this young man that Jamal and Jawan keep talking about. It's enough work keeping them out of trouble with folks that I do know but now I gotta be keeping tabs on someone I don't." Danny could hear the frustration in Ms. Roselma's voice and then the suspicion. "You know much about this young man?"

"Uh oh, this must be Granny Wilkinson," thought Danny, dredging up memories of how things could be when his Nana Tucci was in a royal snit. "The last thing I need is for someone's granny to be on my case."

"I shore do Ms. Roselma, I shore do. He's helping me clear out this place for the community center. In fact he's here now. I'll call him out so you can meet him, give you a chance to set yo' mind at ease."

Silas gestured to Danny who stepped into the doorway beside Silas. Although the woman facing them was older, she did not strike him as a granny – long, dark cornrows gathered and wrapped with a brightly colored scarf atop her head, dark almond shaped eyes .. and ample curves in all the right places – not bad – _for a granny of course_. No wonder Silas was up in arms about Ms. Roselma's appearance at the center. Danny, grinning, elbowed Silas in the ribs knowingly as he extended his hand to Ms. Roselma. "Danny Messer"

"Mind yo'self," Silas muttered under his breath which made Danny grin even wider.

Ms. Roselma took his hand but looked him up and down as she did so. With a "Humph" she dropped it and placed her hands on her hips as if something hadn't quite agreed with her and now she was going to take it to task.

"Now why would a white boy like you be out here in our part of the world?"

"Well-" Danny began but Silas cut in.

"Now Ms Roselma it's all on the up and up. He's been in a bit o' trouble and he's working hisself back out of it."

"Uh huh! Like we ain't got enough of our own troubled folks here in the neighborhood without taking on someone from Midtown."

Although addressing Silas, Ms. Roselma's frank dark-eyed stare was glued to Danny and he felt it was time to try to defuse the situation somewhat.

"Ma'am-"

She shook a finger at him. "Now, don't you ma'am me. Just know this – if something should happen to my grandsons I'll come after you." Her finger turned on at Silas, "And I'll hold you personally responsible, Silas."

"Uh no ma-, I mean yes'um Ms. Roselma."

Her hand dropped back to her hip. "Good, I'm counting on you." She craned her neck to look beyond them. "You've made a good bit of progress in there."

"Thank you Ms. Roselma. Them young'uns been helping us a good bit too in exchange for Danny here helping 'em with their baseball game."

"That's what I been hearing. It's good for them – the hard work that is."

"I hope you'll be a regular visitor once it opens." Ms Roselma's dark eyes glinted at Silas and he added, "I mean for your grandsons' sake, you know … to keep an eye on the things."

"Uh huh, we'll see." Ms. Roselma's eyes now glinted at Danny then she turned back to Silas and Danny could swear her tone softened just a tad. "Will I be seeing you at Bingo at the church on Thursday, Silas?"

"Yes'um I'll be there."

"Good."

They watched Ms Roselma turn and sway down the sidewalk – both in their own way – Danny with anticipation building in him at the rough time he was going to lay on Silas once Ms. Roselma was out of earshot and Silas muttering a low, "Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, that woman."

Danny dug another elbow into Silas' ribs. "I'd say Ms. Roselma's got your number. In fact I'd say you sticking around here has more to do with Ms. Roselma than this community center."

"Mind yo'self," Silas warned as he returned inside, grabbing the push broom propped up against the wall.

Danny followed him, picking up his own broom but making no effort to resume sweeping. "Com'on Silas, you can't fool me. You may have been playing the game longer but-"

Silas' strokes lengthened and strengthened. "Game? This ain't no game, boy. At my age you don't get many more chances to be with someone."

Danny sensing an ire rising in Silas that he'd never encountered before, said, "No, you're right."

Silas stopped sweeping, looking Danny square in the face. "And besides don't tell me you ain't never gone to great lengths to impress a woman?"

"Well, of course, but-"

"But what? You never been serious about a woman?"

"Yeah, I mean, I have, I mean I am."

"Maybe not serious enough." Silas began sweeping long, hard strokes again, ruminating more to himself at this point than Danny. "Maybe if you'd had a serious woman in your life you wouldn't be in this mess yo' in. Uh huh! Young buck stud think he know everything about livin' and lovin' Hadn't even begun to live, I tell you."

What the hell? What had gotten into Silas? But … did he have a point? Danny hadn't really thought beyond getting back together with Lindsay. He knew what kind of woman she was, knew what she'd eventually expect if they stayed together. Was he ready for that? Did he even want that? Was it even fair to get involved with her again – assuming she gave him another chance – if they had differing views on the long term.

* * *

"You didn't lie when you said this place had the best tempura. It was delicious. Thank you again for inviting me." She lifted the wine glass to her lips to finish the last swallow.

Rand eased back, hooking an arm over the back of the chair as he stretched his legs out to the side. "Well I don't lie and really it's the least I could do after that presentation you gave today."

Lindsay set the glass back on the table twirling it at the base of the stem. "It was the case, lots of angles to it and the students keyed into that."

Rand pushed aside his plate as he leaned in on his forearms. "Yeah, but it was more than that … I mean you've always given top-notch presentations … but today there was an intensity …"

"Well, it's been an intense kind of week."

"Tough cases?"

A momentary flash of daises danced across her mind. "Yeah, tough cases and …"

"And?"

But she didn't want to talk or think about anything remotely to do with daises. "And nothing. Look, I don't want to talk about work or anything to do with it." She stared at him, his blues eyes, the hair fingering his collar, his humoring half smile.

After a moment, his fingers laced through hers, his thumb tracing a lazy circle on her palm as he held her eyes. "Okay, how about we don't talk at all."

The tingle that traveled up her arm down through her torso to plunge deep into that center point below her stomach blocked all other thoughts. The word, "Okay," barely slipped through her lips.

Rand keeping his eyes on her gestured to the waiter who approached, "Keep the change." After the waiter left with a wide smile and a generous stack of bills, he said "You ready to go?"

This time there were no words, just a nod.

As they walked out of the restaurant her legs wobbled but it felt good as she leaned against for support, felt good when he slid into the taxi next her, his warmth seeping along her whole right side, felt good as the weight of his arm settled across her shoulders his hand curling in to stroke her throat as she leaned her head back.

She abandoned her mind and dwelt inside her body as the waves of desire traveled to every nerve ending. A kiss to her temple, his hand stroking her cheek, turning her face to his, lips upon lips – it felt nothing but good. And that's how she wanted to feel.

* * *

His hand reached for her – she knew it was his. His voice called to her – she'd recognize it anywhere. He was so close now. She reached for him, called to him but he was elusive, blending with the fog that swirled around her, fading as she called to him …

"Danny, wait, Danny!"

And she awoke with a start, a face of concern staring into hers but not his face. She licked her lips, tried to push a swallow of saliva down her throat so she could speak. Try to speak, to explain, to apologize.

He touched her face. "Are you okay?"

Another swallow, croaking the words. "No, no I'm not." Sitting up, clutching the sheet to her, suddenly feeling shy in front of someone who'd not only seen every inch of body hours earlier but had touched it, caressed it, kissed it, brought to the edge and over, not once but twice. "I need to go."

His breath wisped across her skin as he said, "Why not wait until morning?"

Now out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her as she gathered her clothes off the floor, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Can you call me a cab, please?" closing bathroom door behind her.

When she emerged, she called for him softly.

From the window she heard his voice gruff but calm, "Out here."

She sat on the window sill. He'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and was crouching on the fire escape, back against the wall. Her eyes followed the glowing cigarette tip to his mouth. He inhaled then turned the butt toward her. She shook her head then because she didn't know what else to say, she said, "I didn't know you smoked."

This time he took a deep drag, dropping his hands between his knees afterwards, his head drooping between his shoulders as he exhaled. "I don't … very often."

The pain of disappointment and embarrassment washed over her. "Look, I'm sorry Rand, I … um … another time in my life … I um think this could have worked but …" She wanted to take his hand, touch his cheek – something – but she didn't want to cause anymore pain.

"I know. It's that other guy." Rand eased out of the crouch into a sitting position. "Well at least now I know his name."

She wanted to laugh at his small joke but she could only manage, "I better go." She stood.

"Lindsay."

"Yeah?"

"If things don't work out …"

This time she turned, leaning through the window cupping his cheek, whispering, "It was good, Rand, you made me feel really good. And I needed that. Thank you." She kissed him lightly on the lips, the taxi honked, and she left.

* * *

When she arrived at her apartment she rescued the bouquet of daisies from exile, fresh as ever, winking and waving at her in the faint light of the dawn. She looked at the card not really needing to because the familiar scrawl and the words were imprinted on her heart and in her mind.

Do you still believe in us?

I do.

Always.

Danny

Nothing was for certain in her heart or in her mind except that she had to put closure to this chapter in her life. Whether it was to move forward with him or without him, she couldn't predict. She only knew that she couldn't move forward until she had worked things through with him, regardless of how maddening or gut wrenching it may become.

Affording herself as much risk as she could at the moment, she keyed in the text. The sun already in the sky for over an hour finally broke over the roof of the neighboring building as she pressed send.

Do I have reason to believe?


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the continued support, the discussion, the reviews, the alerts, the favorites. I appreciate it all. I still have a few chapters to go but I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel ... I just hope it's not the light of an oncoming train. :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 22**

He was awake, had been awake all night. Picking up takeout on his way home during the evening prior, eating and drinking as he flipped endlessly through the channels, settling on nothing, drinking more until nervous energy stockpiled and he had had to exhaust it. Choosing walking over riding, he had headed for Sullivans, hoping for an opportunity, or willing to take the risk, that he might run into someone he knew, someone he could just pass the hours with, drinking and shooting the breeze. And if he didn't, there was always Jake the bartender, who'd do in a pinch, that is, if he wasn't too busy with the customers.

But once he had arrived, he realized that he didn't want to talk, brooding in the corner he only stuck around for a couple of drinks – even though those two had taken quite a while to drink. Then he had taken the long way back to his apartment where he'd lain awake, thinking, which should be a good thing, according to Ty, who was always stressing the exercising of his thinking muscle over his emotional one – to create a pathway in his brain as Ty had framed it – for defaulting to thinking before reacting in emotionally charged situations.

So thinking about Lindsay; what she meant to him; what he meant to her; what he would say to her if he heard from her which he was beginning to doubt he would – after all a week had passed since he'd left her the daisies and the note. He knew how well she could block out the emotional, shut down and ignore it. He'd seen it enough times. He was used to relating immediately to everything and everyone, laying it all out on the table. Her way of dealing and coping baffled him, frustrated him and even scared him – just a little bit – because he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. And if he really thought about it, maybe, just maybe that's why he'd turned to Rikki after Ruben had died. It was easy. Rikki's emotions had been front and center, messy and spewing, begging to be released, soothed and quelled, presenting an easy exchange for the releasing, soothing and quelling of his own messy and spewing emotions. Maybe with Lindsay, it would have been too hard, too much work. When he had walked away from her in the morgue, maybe he'd expected her to track him down later, insisting on talking, comforting or whatever it took to help him cope and deal, to release his emotions. After all that's what he'd done for her, had done for her more than once – the undercover op, flying to Montana, amongst other occasions. But she hadn't. And Rikki had been there so obviously needing someone as he so obviously had been needing someone. And the rest of the story was an irrevocable downslide to this moment. Maybe he should just chalk it up as one of life's nasty little examples of the fallout from another royal Messer fuckup.

Let it go and move on.

Then his phone beeped. He reached for his glasses, hooking them over his ears then reached for his phone. His breathing – and his thinking – ceased as he noted the sender and then accessed the text message.

Do I have reason to believe?

Without hesitation or another thought he dialed her number.

* * *

She visibly started when her phone rang not ten seconds after she'd sent the text message. No way on God's green earth it could be him. At best he was an early riser only upon requirement, a heavy sleeper to all but Mac or Stella's ring tone and at the very least a three time striker of the snooze bar.

But it was him. And she let it ring again, not sure that she wanted to answer it, to hear his voice so soon after she'd sent the message and before she'd had more time to think about what she was going to say to him. But the question was his to answer. And determination to work through this was uppermost in her mind so she answered – even though she suddenly had little breath to do so.

"Hello"

* * *

Her voice sounded so small when she answered, but yet, so determined. Suddenly he remembered one of the things that had always fascinated him about her, a solid strength in spite of an appearance of fragility and vulnerability.

"Lindsay?"

"Yes"

"Um … how've ya been?"

"Okay, I guess, I mean okay." After a slight pause in which he did not hurry to fill because he honestly didn't know what to say, she said, "How are you?"

"Good, you know keeping busy."

"Oh, yeah, with what?"

"Well you'll never believe it."

"What's that?"

"Community Service." He hadn't planned to just say it without some type of lead in, some type of explanation but as usual it had just come out.

"No kidding? You mean like picking up trash?"

He laughed at her honest reaction and the irony of it. "No, that would have been an easy stint compared to what I _am_ doing."

"Which is?"

"Cleaning out dumpster-loads of trash from an old warehouse up in The Bronx."

"All the way up there? How did you manage that?"

"Lucky, I guess." Suddenly realizing how lucky he was to have 'pulled a stint like that' he barreled ahead. "Listen, I know we have a lot to talk about and I don't want to do it over the phone." He paused not sure how'd she'd receive it but his advantage with people had always been face to face, not across some impersonal phone line. "I want to see you."

"Okay"

After all the time she'd spent avoiding him and rejecting him, her simple agreement was unexpected. _This seemed too … easy_. But he didn't waste anymore time analyzing the break he'd been handed. "How about this morning … breakfast? My treat."

There it was, the pause, longer than it should have been, then her voice small – again. "I'm kind of busy this morning … um ... errands … I have to run and I'm on at ten." He tensed at the familiarly haunting put off, then she said, "… but maybe dinner … after I get off."

The words tumbled from his mouth. "Okay, sure, I'll call you later."

"Yeah, okay, bye Danny."

"Bye"

* * *

Her hand trembled as she pressed end. His voice that inexplicable mixture of rough and smooth had kept emotion after emotion waving over her that in hindsight she couldn't believe she'd made it through the conversation without hyperventilating even though she'd come close a couple of times particularly when he'd suggested breakfast – this morning no less! But that was the way he was – in the moment, of the moment and no time like the moment. But she knew she had to take this in baby steps, had to hold her own, couldn't let herself be swept away and then set back down someplace she hadn't anticipated on being – like last time. This time she would be prepared.

* * *

It had been an invigorating ride out, little traffic and an early summer breeze. He'd become accustomed to and now even anticipated the leaving behind of the towering crush of Manhattan for a bit of open space even if it was just gaps of dereliction in The Bronx, it was still open space – relatively speaking that is. But it was the anticipation of his plans for the evening – which he honestly thought would have never materialized – that had him rubbing his hands together, bearing a wide grin as he entered the warehouse and approached Silas. "Whatcha got planned for us today, Silas?"

"It's a good day when there's a spring in a man's step." Silas remarked.

Danny hooked his hands into his armpits as rocked back on his heels "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean there's a spring in yo' step that wasn't there yesterday."

Frustrated at being so transparent, Danny threw up his hands. "Whaatt?? Things are looking up. The job situation seems to be on track." He gestured around the warehouse. "And this place has come a long way." Then he dramatically palmed his lower back to make his point. "Don't I got the backache to prove it."

"It ain't that 'cause all those things were there yesterday and the day before and the day before that … no, no, it's something else." Silas stepped in close to peer into Danny's face, lowering his voice like he was revealing the mystery of life itself. "No siree, there's only one thing that puts the spring in a man's step like that."

Danny grunted as he returned Silas' stare. "This is payback, ain't it Silas? For yesterday."

Silas flashed him a pearly-white baring grin, "It's serious, ain't it?"

"I never said that."

"Uh huh, but it's what you didn't say that gives it away."

Danny backed away, shaking a finger at Silas, "You know Silas sometimes I think you're a seriously deluded old man."

Silas laughed. "Uh huh, better than being a seriously deluded young man."

Danny turned and gave Silas a backwards wave, "Alright, old man, things look good in here so I'm gonna start on the grounds outside."

"You do that."

* * *

"Silas says to work out here with you."

Danny paused in his tracks, shifting the weight a of four foot length of rusted girder onto his hip so he could swipe the sweat off his forehead. "Jamal, just the man I was looking for. Help me with this will ya?"

"Sure" Jamal hurried to lift the other end of the girder and they hauled it to the mounting pile of rubbish where Danny said, "Okay on the count of three," and they swung it up onto the pile.

Danny took another swipe across his brow as he said, "You the only one here so far?"

"Yep, except for Jawan. He in there with Silas. The others'll be here by lunchtime."

"No doubt. That seems to be the highlight of their day," Danny concurred as he walked back to tackle another rusted girder. The 'young'uns' as Silas called him were hard workers if they had an incentive and their incentive for showing up before lunchtime was lunch. The word had spread that Silas had gotten in the habit of feeding 'em lunch, usually just pizza or sandwiches but as Silas said, "It's probably the squarest meal most of them young'uns get all day." And more often than not, Danny volunteered to ride up and get the food then conveniently forgot to take Silas' money. After all the man wasn't made of money.

They carried another three or four rusted girder to the rubbish pile when Jamal who'd had been silent the entire time suddenly said, "So how you know so much about baseball, you a coach or something?"

"Yeah … or something," Danny puffed at the exertion his answer took. Although Jamal was helping he was still a kid and Danny was bearing the burnt of the weight of the girders.

"So what kind of something, like a player?"

"You could say that."

"Pro?"

"Almost."

They tossed the girder at the count of three and Danny said, "Let's take a break for a sec."

"What happened?"

"Huh?"

"Why was it almost?"

"'Cause I did something stupid that ruined my chances."

"What was it?"

"I threw a lousy punch in a bar fight and broke my wrist."

"And after that-"

With little desire to dredge up details of the past, he said, "After that I had to find something else to do."

"Like work for Mr. Benoit?"

Danny laughed at the absurdity of it and the seriousness in Jamal's eyes. "No, no this is just temporary. I'm actually a CSI." Continuing at the behest of Jamal's questioning look, "You know a Crime Scene Investigator?"

"Oh, you a cop? Then whaddya doing here?"

"Just on a break." Danny looked up, gauging the sun to about midday, wondering when the rest of the kids would get here. "I go back in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, that soon?"

Danny focused on Jamal whose eyes slid past him to the rubbish heap, his hand fisting in his pocket. "What? Something on your mind?"

Frustration in his voice, Jamal said, "Yeah, this," and pulled out a folded and now wrinkled piece of paper which he thrust at Danny.

Danny took it, unfolded it and read through it quickly. All the boys, who'd been helping Silas and who he'd been helping afterwards with their baseball game, had listed their names under 'Teammates' and in the space next to 'Sponsor' was listed 'Silas Benoit'. The space next to 'Coach' was blank. Dawning realization scrambled his brain. He wasn't going to be around much longer. He couldn't be depended upon, regardless of how much he enjoyed working with the kids, how much they enjoyed it, how much they benefited, and he was about to hand the paper back to Jamal with an explanation of the circumstances when Jamal supplied in a hopeful and excited rush. "It's a summer rec league. All the guys are in now since you been helping us. But we need a coach. Can't do it without a coach."

The hopefulness on Jamal's face almost stopped him from explaining but only almost – after all he had a life he was trying to put back together. "I don't know Jamal. I'm only going to be here another couple of weeks and then you know with my work … it gets crazy at times. Making it to games might be doable once in a while but practices … you need someone you can depend on."

"But there ain't noone else around here that even comes close to what you know about the game …" Frustration turned to desperation, "… don't you get it, there is no one else."

Jamal reached for the paper but Danny held it out of reach, recalling all the times someone had gone out on a limb for him, how many times they'd helped him through a rough patch but most of all recalling how many times they hadn't, how it had disappointed, hurt even at times stung, especially as a kid. Danny folded the paper and thrust it into his pocket as he spoke. "Look Jamal, let me think about it, okay? Maybe I can work something out. I'll let you know in couple of days. Is that okay with you?"

Jamal's eyes blazed, his grin wide. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'll be patient I promise."

* * *

He picked up the menu several times, flipped it open each time then flipped it closed just as quickly. He didn't know this place, had never been here before, never even heard of it, but it had been the place Lindsay had suggested when he had called to ask where she wanted to meet for dinner. And now it was half an hour past their arranged meeting time and he began to worry. Memories of another occasion when she'd stood him; when she hadn't even called to explain; had coolly blown him off when he'd questioned her about it. It had been one of most frustrating moments in his life, one of the toughest things not to write her off right then and there, tell her to just forget things between them, it wasn't worth it. But somewhere deep inside, from a place he didn't quite know nor understand, he'd stuck it out and it had been worth it – back then. But he didn't seem to be in touch with that place deep inside him at the moment as he threw the menu down for the last time. _Fuck it! I'm not going through again._

"Danny?"

And there she stood, slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed, eyes darkly luminous, her slim hand brushing the wayward strands back behind her ear as she dropped her bag into the booth and fell into it gratefully.

"I'm sorry I'm late. It was hectic at the end of shift today and when I finally was on my way, I realized my cell was dead."

She smiled. And suddenly he was back in touch with that place deep inside him, the one that said it was worth it.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: This chapter was a little tough to write so let me know what you think. Thank you again for all the support, I appreciate it more than I can say.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 23**

He looked even better than she remembered; eyes bluer than blue if that was possible, muscular and tanned, community service obviously agreeing with him. Only realizing that she'd been staring at him when his softly spoken words, "I'm glad you came," finally registered, she hastily grabbed a menu, murmuring, "Me too." With a rueful purse of her lips, she began studying it.

_Great move, Lindsay! Stare at him like a moonfaced teen why don't you?_

But she couldn't decipher the menu try as she might so she sneaked a peek at him instead and found him doing the same.

He grinned and said, "So what's good here?"

She shrugged. "Honestly I don't know because I've never been here before." Unbidden, banked emotions swelled, syllabicating her words at a turtled pace, "It was … just a place … that I … chanced upon."

He paced his syllabication to hers. "Then we'll … have to take … our chance … on this place."

His menu slackened against hers and she felt the weight, slight as it was, she felt it nonetheless. And she struggled to free herself, from it and from the hold of his bluer than blue eyes upon her own, knowing the glittering in hers was already revealing how his answer to the question she had to ask would affect her. But she had to ask, and she had to know, because there was a fork in the road and she was desperate to move forward – with or without him.

Her question came out strained and whispered. "What chance do we have … you and me?"

The menu dropped completely from his hands, the weight of the almost paper thin cardstock crushing down upon her own as he answered, "None, none at all," then the weight ripping free from her hands as he caught them in his own, "Because I'm not leaving us to chance, Lindsay."

She felt cooled and heated, resentful and reassured all at the same time. "Us! But I'm not even sure that there can be an us, not even sure I want there to be an us."

Danny sighed, "You know what?"

The sigh. Was it a sigh of relief, sadness, or exasperation? She couldn't discern the reason for it, she could only say, "What?"

And at his reply, "I'm not sure either," a tear slipped free, then another and another. Where were they coming from? She had had this all figured out at work today how she would handle him and his responses, his front and center emotions, his single mindedness when he was convinced he was on the right track, his ability to sweep her along with him. She had her reasoning and logic all prepared as to how she'd stall him for time and space until she could be sure, but now … _he wasn't even sure!_ His face blurred through her tears and she jerked her hands out of his, hiding them in the security of her lap to wring and writhe away the anxiety and insecurity. She dropped her eyes to watch them then felt him slide into the booth next her, wrap both arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. His lips pressed against her temple then he spoke softly against her ear.

"I know you're upset but I've thought about it and it's actually a good thing."

She arched back, eyes flying from her hands to his face. "It's a good thing that you're not sure?"

"But you're not sure either. Is _that_ a good thing?"

"But, but, you're the one who sent the flowers, the note. You're the one who said you still believed in us."

"And I do Lindsay, I do but .." Then his arms were no longer around her but braced on the table in front of them, his eyes, staring straight ahead, his words slow and distinct. "But a lot has changed since Key West. Even since I sent that note, I've realized some things."

Shock, dark and ominous, shock like she hadn't felt since she'd first found out about Rikki. Shock that slithered in, tugging her into that feeling of free-falling with no bottom in sight. Now she stared straight ahead and her tone flattened, "What have you realized, Danny?"

He turned sideways in the booth to face her.

"Look at me, Lindsay."

"No"

"Why not?"

"Because … because … you're not sure, I'm not sure and I don't even know if I can face the floundering, the pain of realizing that we might not want the same us."

"So you want to go back to what it's been like for the past several weeks?"

Who was this guy – this guy asking all the questions she'd been asking herself countless times over the past several weeks? Questions which she knew she needed answers to, but which she was now tentative about seeking in light of his insecurities. Why was she tentative? What was she scared of? Was it because his thinking and his questioning wasn't what she'd expected from him?

"Lindsay?"

His furrowed brow and clouded eyes registered as her mind cleared in revelation. He'd been questioning and thinking too. He didn't have it all figured out. He was looking to her for reassurance and answers as much as she was looking to him. Hadn't she wanted a reason to believe? Wasn't this reason enough? Her hands stilling in her lap, she smiled inwardly at first, then gloriously at him as she said, "No, I don't. I don't want to go back to how it's been. In fact I don't want to go back there ever again."

He smiled in return, the wide one that flashed his teeth, the one that had always made her feel like he thought of no other woman the way he thought of her.

"Me neither," he said as he brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her cheek. The finger that trailed down her cheek afterwards calmed her, reassured her.

"I can't believe that at least one of us doesn't have to be sure for this to work." she said then lost her bottom lip completely between her teeth as she waited for his response.

"Honestly I don't know. But how about we start from square one again and figure us out together … as we go along … whatever us may be?"

"From square one? Us?"

"Yeah, us, together."

* * *

She languished in the few moments before the alarm sounded, reveling in the memories of the past few days – together – with him. Most nights, dinner, nothing fancy, just out somewhere, their conversation, casual and easy, mostly about their respective days – his, admittedly, more interesting than hers at the moment. They existed in each other's company, content and happy, figuring out things as they went along. And when she'd had to work in the evenings, he'd surprised her by arriving at the end of her shift to escort her home, for safety reasons he'd claimed but she'd missed their evening conversation and somehow she thought he had too.

And today, they were going to spend the whole day together. She turned off the alarm but startled when she heard a buzzing sound anyway. No! It couldn't be him; he wasn't due for another hour. She panicked as she hurried to the door and pressed the button beside it.

His voice, so matter of fact, crackled through the speaker. "Montana, buzz me through, I have coffee."

"Danny?" Her voice squeaked embarrassingly. "What are you doing here a whole hour early?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I- have- cof- fee!"

"What if I say no?'

"I have breakfast too."

She could hear the smirk in his voice that time. _Smartass!_ She pressed the buzzer, undid the locks and scrambled to cover herself with a wrap from the back of the couch. All she had on was a thin cotton nightgown – actually the same thin gauzy nightgown she'd worn in Key West. And she felt the flush in her cheeks just as he walked through the door, holding two cups of coffee and a paper bag, handily closing the door behind him with his heel before holding one cup out to her with a very pleased grin on his face.

--

As he held the cup out to her, he reaffirmed the far too distant memory of how 'recently tumbled out of bed' was one of her better looks – tousled hair, a touch of pink in the cheeks, lips soft and full, eyes still dusty with dreams – hopefully of him. Yep, definitely one of her _best_ looks and definitely one of his best ideas to surprise her just a tad too early with coffee and breakfast!

"Danny, you're ogling," she said as she clutched the coffee cup in one hand and secured the wrap to her with the other.

His mouth engaged before his brain. "You're just so beautiful first thing in the morning, Montana." He set his cup and the bag on the side table as he took a step toward her, threading his fingers through her hair, his thumb stroking along her cheek.

Her voice was small but steady as she said, "Thank you Danny, but remember what we agreed to?"

"I do." He parroted the agreement with no real thought to its meaning within this situation. "No intimate contact until we're sure it's for the right reasons and the right thing for both of us."

"So…" she said quietly, but she didn't try to disengage herself, didn't even lower her eyes, in fact they darkened and her tongue darted along her lips. His hand tightened in her hair. _It'd be so easy … and it would feel so good!_ _But what would he lose? Besides an hour._ But he knew what he'd lose; he'd lose the chance to show her that he was someone of his word, someone that she could trust. He slid his hand gently from her hair, cupping her cheek briefly before he turned to retrieve his coffee and the bag, heading into the kitchen as he called over his shoulder.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved, let's eat."

She called to him as she passed the kitchen in the gauzy nightgown now minus the wrap, "Start without me, I'll be there after I've showered and dressed."

"Vixen," he thought as he dropped gratefully into a chair.

--

She leaned against the bathroom door in relief. It had taken all her courage and concentration to purposefully walk past him without the wrap. Why she'd done it when she'd come so close, so close to falling into bed with him? Maybe, just maybe she'd wanted to prove to him and herself that she could walk away from him – with a little taunt thrown in for good measure. To fall into bed with him would have been so easy … and it would have felt so good, but … would it have been the right thing to do at this point? They were still working things out, still trying to define them and having such an easy and enjoyable time doing it. Was it worth endangering that part of the relationship to enter this part of the relationship? Maybe there shouldn't ever be a 'this part of the relationship'. But if there was to be a 'this part of the relationship', when should it happen? Should there be a commitment between them? There had never been one before. Did she want a commitment? Did he want a commitment? She slipped out of the nightgown and stepped into the shower, letting all the questions drain away, focusing instead on the big day ahead them. A big day in particular for him. A day which she wasn't going to cloud by trying to deal with these questions. Today she was here for him.

--

_Not one of your wiser moves, Messer!_

But at least he'd saved himself by pulling back when he did. He couldn't deny what was between them physically, had never tried to deny it, had just tried to keep it in check when necessary. But now, he was sitting here in her kitchen, trying to figure out when would be the right time. It'd been great being with her again, her genuine laugh as he entertained her with antidotes from his day, her spin on things when he encountered an issue, her rare moments when she talked about herself and her day. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed that, missed her. Did he really want to screw with that just for some moments of physical pleasure? _Okay, okay some really mind blowing moments of physical pleasure._ But still he knew as lucky as he had been the first time around that she'd gone into it without a commitment from him, there was no way he'd be so lucky this time around. No self-respecting woman would. So what did he want? He knew didn't want to lose what they had right now, but was he willing to give more to get more?

The questions died away as she entered the kitchen again, her previous 'just tumbled out of bed' look replaced by the 'casual spend the day with him' look. And he remembered how he had loved that look too. And suddenly, regardless of the other relationship issues that remained to be worked through, knowing that she'd agree to be with him on this big day of his was as important to him as the day itself. And somehow, someway before the day was over he'd let her know that.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Not sure what happened on this chapter ... but I tell you, these characters have a mind of their own. :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 24**

"Here we are."

"Big place."

"Yeah it is, I cruised by here yesterday on my way back into Midtown."

"Are you nervous?"

Taking in the maze of baseball diamonds surrounding the large concessions area, the excited chattering of hundreds of baseball capped kids, he shrugged. "Guess not. Been doing these games ever since I could swing a bat."

"Ever as a coach?"

He looked at her, his tongue darting quickly across his lips. "Nah, never as a coach." He looked away again, focusing on a squirming mass of kids, hands reaching for team caps being handed out by a parent volunteer, his voice faint as he continued, "And certainly never for a bunch of kids."

She slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. "Well … you were a kid once … still are a kid a lot of the time … so …"

He grinned at her, then lost it again as he pushed up his glasses with a forefinger. "But that's kind of the point … I'm not a kid anymore, I'm the grownup now and they're counting on me."

"Look, you know them, they know you and in the end it really is about the game and having fun. I don't think you can go wrong with that."

He pulled their intertwined hands across his chest, drawing her close and dropping a kiss on her nose. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too." She smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Okay then, let's go find our team."

--

"Coach." Relief spread over Jamal's face as he jogged up to Danny.

Slapping and linking hands as they met, Danny said, "What? Were you afraid I wouldn't show?"

"Nah, I just … look you gotta go check us in at the coach's table, there's not much time before they throw out the first pitch and we need to warm up."

"Okay, okay, but did everyone make it here okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, they over there, with Mr. Benoit and my granny." Jamal gestured towards a stand of bleachers. "C'mon." He turned and they followed him back through the crowd toward the group of boys who swarmed Danny, plying him with eager expectations once they caught sight of him.

Danny, holding up a hand in near useless defense, said, "Alright guys, I'm here, I know what to do just give me a minute, will ya?"

Silas stepped through the throng, cupping Lindsay's free hand in both of his, pearly whites flashing in his dark face. "I'm Silas Benoit and you must be the pretty little lady who Danny's been pacing the floor over."

Lindsay returning a toothy smile of her own, said, "I'm Lindsay Monroe, Silas. Nice to finally meet you. And I don't know if I'm the one, but I do know that Danny's got to expend energy when he's got a lot on his mind."

"Silas, I have not been pacing the floor," Danny grunted in exasperation.

"Humph, so says you."

Danny inwardly groaned at the voice approaching from the crowd. Handling Silas was one thing but Ms. Roselma was another matter entirely.

"I'm Roselma Wilkinson." Her dark almond shaped eyes peered intently at Lindsay, one hand stanced on her hip, while a finger wagged in Danny's direction. "I hope you know this young man's been in a bit o' trouble?"

"Danny in trouble?" Lindsay addressed Ms. Roselma, but then her eyes owled impishly at Danny as she said, "Danny, are there some things you haven't been telling me?"

"Alright smart aleck, I can see that you'll have no problem fitting in here, so I'll just go get the team checked in." He gave Lindsay's hand a quick squeeze before he dropped it. "C'mon Jamal."

Jamal fell into step beside Danny.

"Ya got the roster?"

"Yeah, I got it right here."

--

Lindsay sat in the bleachers next to Silas and 'Ms. Roselma' – as everyone from the youngest member of the team right up through Danny to Silas addressed her. 'Ms. Roselma' with her glossy dark cornrows spilling over from the team colored scarf wrapped around her head, 'Ms. Roselma' who seemed to know the score, 'Ms. Roselma' who didn't seem to take grief from anyone – yes, 'Ms. Roselma' indeed. She liked 'Ms. Roselma'. And as she watched Silas lean in close to Ms Roselma with every explanation of the warm up routine, and Ms. Roselma's appreciative smile and encouraging comments, she realized Silas was sporting a sweet spot for Ms. Roselma too.

Lindsay followed Silas' finger out to the pitcher's mound where both teams were now clustered around Jamal and another player from the opposing team. Danny remained outside the cluster, his hands tucked up under armpits, a little swaying motion in his body as the opposing player tossed the bat to Jamal who caught it perpendicular, mid way up. Danny's swaying ceased as they went hand over hand until the opposing player covered the top with his hand and a mixture of groans and cheers emitted from the boys as they broke for the field.

"Okay guys, find your places in the outfield," Danny called through cupped hands then dropping them he said to Jamal, "No worries, you gave us the advantage in the bottom of the sixth. Now go warm up that arm, you're throwing out the first pitch."

Danny jogged back to the dugout then emerged behind the fencing headed toward the bleachers, a team cap in his hand. He climbed into the bleachers leaning towards Lindsay, one hand bracing against the ridged metal as he placed the hat on her head. "It's an extra and you'll need it as the sun comes across the sky."

Touched, she impulsively leaned in and kissed him. "For luck," she explained at his surprised expression.

His teeth flashed, his voice that incongruous mixture of rough and soft as he said, "Montana, do you know how hot you look in a baseball cap?"

From behind them, the ump yelled, "Play ball!"

"Gotta go."

And she watched him, thinking how hot he looked, as he jogged back to the dugout.

--

Danny had been right. As the sun journeyed across the sky, it would have leveled into her eyes if she'd not had the hat to block its rays. And by the middle of third inning, the descending rays created a sheen of perspiration across Silas' bald head and Ms. Roselma was fanning herself with the teams' directory punctuating the air with a distracted "Lordy" here and a "Lordy" there whether from the heat of the sun in the sky or the heat of the action on the baseball field, Lindsay wasn't sure. At the top of the sixth, the score was tied at four runs each, and Danny had gathered the boys around him, their now sweaty and grubby faces intent on his words as he gestured to different positions in the outfield. When he finished, they stacked their hands and shouted "Teamwork" as they broke and took their positions in the outfield.

"Lordy," Ms. Roselma said as she stood, "I'm gonna need another drink. Silas, Lindsay?"

Lindsay finally needing to heed the call of nature, said, "I'll go with you, Ms. Roselma."

"Silas?"

"Bottle of cold water for me." He barely glanced at them as they shuffled by him.

"I'll be waiting here for you, Lindsay." Ms. Roselma said as she headed to the concession stand while Lindsay headed to the restrooms. When she emerged a few minutes later, Ms. Roselma was nowhere to be seen. Lindsay, following the rules for locating missing persons, rotated in place, sure that Ms. Roselma would be in sight momentarily but after a couple of roations she still didn't see her anywhere. She waited a couple more minutes, sure that Ms. Roselma had run into someone she knew and was chatting just around the corner of the concession stand. Another couple of minutes and Lindsay began to circle the concessions pavilion. After circling twice looking both left and right, she circled a third time, making her path wider, now checking out of the way places, not wanting to return to the bleachers until she was sure that Ms. Roselma was nowhere in the vicinity. Probably it'd slipped her mind that she was going to wait for Lindsay and she had already returned to the bleachers. After all her grandson Jamal was pitching and with the score tied at four all, she'd want to be there just in case something happened. She quickened her pace but stopped cold beside an old shed when she heard voices … one definitely Ms. Roselma's, the other, male, wheedling.

"C'mon, a couple twenties, that's all I need. It'll do me until payday."

"You lie, Michael. You don't have job, haven't had a job in years. You're a crack addict. Now get away from me."

Now the voice threatening.

"You bitch, you hardhearted bitch. You'd turn away family."

"You ain't family!"

A hard thump against the shed had Lindsay digging frantically through her bag, hand closing around her shield, clipping it to her waist, treading quietly to the edge where she could peek, hopefully sight unseen, around the corner.

"Ouch! You sonofabitch you don't scare me. Now, get your hands off me."

Ms Roselma, squashed against the wall, her arm hiked behind her, a man's face so close to Ms. Roselma's that Lindsay could see neither. The man's hair was knotted, bits of dried grass clinging to it and his clothes, his clothes stenched and hanging loosely about his scrawny frame. Neither saw her as she retreated, pressing her back against the shed. She didn't have her piece, was just lucky that she happened to have her shield. But it'd be foolhardy to call out, "NYPD" without a gun or backup. A diversion – to spook him – hopefully send him on his way – she banged her heel against the shed.

A scrambling and then muttering, "Fuck, I'm outta here. But this ain't over, old lady."

She remained motionless against the shed until the man passed, memorizing his features as he brushed by her without a glance. She rounded the corner, curling a hand around Ms. Roselma's upper arm.

"Are you okay? Sorry I couldn't do more but I didn't have my piece with me and I didn't want to run the risk of you being hurt if he was armed."

Ms. Roselma's face twitched in realization as she jerked her arm of out Lindsay's grasp. "You a cop?"

"Yes, yes, I am. Has this happened before? Either way you need to file a complaint."

"Has this happened before? Has this happened before?"

Something between hysteria and incredulity in Ms. Roselma's voice made Lindsay wonder if Ms. Roselma was in shock or worse on the edge of some kind of a breakdown.

Lindsay quieted her voice, hoping to avoid a confrontation. "I'm only trying to help."

"Girl, you cain't help me. That man's a crack addict."

"But you could file a restraining order against him so the police have some leverage to stop him next time it happens."

"You still don't get it, do you? It ain't never gonna stop until he's dead. You get that?"

"But-"

"Look this is something I've been dealing with long before you and that golden haired boyfriend of yours even dreamed of becoming cops so leave my business to myself and tend to yo' own business."

Ms. Roselma turned but stopped midway then turned back, her dark eyes glittering as she muttered through her teeth. "And don't breathe a word of this to anyone. You understand me? Not to your boyfriend, not to Silas and most of all not to my grandsons, you read me, girl? Like I said, I don't need nobody trying to handle something I been handling on my own just fine for more years than I care to count."

Lindsay stood straighter, fingering her badge as she said, "I don't agree with you, Ms. Roselma. But until I have no other choice, I'll speak of it to no one."

Ms. Roselma stepped back, hands on hips, regarding Lindsay for a moment, before her teeth parted allowing her voice to soften just a tad, "Okay, fair enough."

They returned to the bleachers without further incident just in time for the bottom of the sixth and final inning, the score still tied four all.

Soon everything was forgotten but the excitement and concentration of nine young boys as they each stepped in turn to the plate determined to do their part for their team. Bases loaded more than once but the opposing team able to squash the run to home both times it was attempted. With a boy on first and another on third, it was now down to Jawan – last one to bat in the rotation, his dusty hands gripping the bat, shifting it once then twice before touching the tip to the plate, indicating to the pitcher that he was ready.

First pitch – called low by the ump but not before Jawan forced the swing, unbalancing himself – strike one! Snickers from the opposing team, answering encouragement from his own teammates. Jawan swiped the sweat from his brow leaving a trail of dust. Bracing himself, touching the plate and another pitch – called good by the ump, garnering stike two against Jawan as he held his swing. More jeers, more encouragement. Jawan shifted the bat again, adjusted his feet, squatted. Until this moment Danny had been standing in the entryway of the dugout, hands buried in his armpits, body swaying in anticipation of each swing but completely silent. Now he took a step towards Jawan his voice calling out, "Relax Jawan, it ain't nothing but a baseball and this ain't nothing but a game."

Jawan nodded in acknowledgement, stanced for the last time, touched the plate and … the pitch sailed across the plate – perfect – the bat swung – crack! Not a loud crack – certainly not the kind that sends the ball into the stands, causing mayhem among the fans as they scramble to their feet, grabbing wildly for a chance to touch greatness – no, not that kind, but the kind that gives nine young boys the chance to believe that someday they could become greatness.

The surprise line drive up the middle towards the pitcher caused a moment's hesitation, allowing a young boy, stouter than the boy who'd made the hit, to cross home plate, the ump declaring the game officially over.

And the caps of _ten_ boys thrown into the air in celebration.

* * *

Darkness curled around them, the city sounds faded beyond their hearing, hands intertwined, they strolled, their conversation replaying the events of the day.

"It was a good day."

"Yeah, it was. I still can't believe the way those boys played. It wasn't so much that they won, I mean, I'm ecstatic that they won but it was much more than that. They played together and they played with their hearts. And that's best anyone can ask for. Those boys have what some teams never even come close to their entire existence."

"It's because of you Danny. You've made that possible for those kids."

"Yeah, maybe, but they had it in them all the time."

She stopped short at the entrance of her building staying just within the shadows, back to the brick wall, her voice soft, "Sure, I believe that, but it took you to bring it out in them, bring it all together so they could be a team. That's special Danny. Not everyone can do that, especially with kids."

He palmed the wall behind her head, "Thanks, Lindsay." Suddenly aware of the smells of sweat, dust, sunshine and Lindsay, so aware of her still wearing the baseball cap he'd placed on her head at the beginning of the game. She'd worn it the entire day but now he wanted to see her entire face so he removed it brushing down the hairs that insisted on following the cap, his hand curling around her neck afterwards, a thumb stroking along her jawline.

"You know I've learned something from all this."

"Oh yeah, what?"

--

And a pause so long and deep she didn't think he was going to speak again, then he did, his voice low, very low and rough.

"I learned how much it means to have someone there for you … how right that feels and how bad it feels to lose it, but … but most of all if I ever had that again, I'd do everything in my power not to lose it ... again."

Air barely breathing life to her words. "I know all those feelings too."

"I know you do, Lindsay, and I'm, I'm just sorry in fact I'm more than sorry, if that's even possible, that I'm the one who put you through all that."

"I know you are … and … and I can't say I'm completely over what happened … it … it still hurts sometimes but … maybe with enough time …"

"You've got all the time you need, Lindsay, all the time in the world if you just give me another chance."

"You mean it, Danny?"

"Yeah, I mean it. I'm not going anywhere. I know I want to be with you … seriously."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."


	26. Chapter 26

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* * *

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A/N: I'm working my way towards the ending but there are a few more hurtles to cross, hold on! BTW thank you everyone for the conitnued feedback and support. I've really enjoyed and appreciated hearing everyone's thoughts.

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 25**

"Hey little bro, where's Jamal?"

"Oh he say he sick and staying home today. Told me to come on down here and work with you and Mr. Benoit 'til Granny gets off work."

"Too bad about Jamal, but lucky for you, Jawan, you're just the man I'm looking for. The contractors are coming tomorrow and we gotta have all this cleared out of their way. So whaddya say? Can you help me out?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

A little brother grin just like his big brother's split his face. "Sure thing, Coach"

Danny palmed Jawan's head and gave it a good natured rocking. "Good, let's get started."

* * *

"Hey Lindsay"

"Hey yourself, Don," she greeted him with a toothy smile.

"Looks like someone's in a good mood. Good weekend?"

She shifted the heavy kit and ducked under the crime scene tape. "You could say that."

"I just did …so ..."

She arched her eyebrows at him. "So … nothing … Don."

"Okay I get it. You don't kiss and tell but just tell me this, anybody I know?"

She couldn't' suppress the happiness seeping into her features as she replied, "Yes."

"Like a brother?"

"Yes, Don," she said and tried to redirect him, "Now, what about this crime scene?"

Flack muttered in the abstract, "I wonder if Messer wants to grab a beer tonight."

"Don" She put a hand on her hip, tilting her head toward the bodies. "The crime scene."

He returned to the concrete, pulling the notebook from his inner jacket pocket. "Okay, okay. Shots heard this morning around 6 AM by the neighbor who called it in. A family of four, the Sauconys, father, mother, two children, actually five if you count the family dog, Puddles.

The shudder erupted from the inside out. This was by far the worst part of the job – facing the people who had become victims.

"It looks like a triple murder and a suicide but I'll leave the final determination to you and Sid."

"Thanks Don, I've got it from here." _Unfortunately._

As Don's footsteps faded away she carefully set the kit down on the polished wood floor so as not to disturb the silence of the dead – victims who had little dignity or choice over their passing into death. She removed the lens cap from the camera strapped around her neck and stepped carefully among the bodies. She couldn't restore their life, but she could give them their dignity during the processing by documenting who they were and how they had died, by giving them an ending to their story through the evidence she gathered.

It was the worst part of the job, but it was the least she could do.

* * *

Silas stood aside as Ms. Roselma swayed through the doorway of the community center. "Good to see you, Ms. Roselma. You come for Jawan?"

"And Jamal." The dark almond shaped eyes panned the barrenness of the interior save for a stack of scrap metal in one corner. "You've worked mighty on hard on this place. It's gonna be a real service to the community." Her cheeks plumped as her lips curved into an approving smile. "I'm real proud of you, Silas."

"Why thank you, Ms Roselma."

Danny and Jawan emerged through the back door of the warehouse, Jawan talking a mile a minute. "Coach, can you believe we got that all cleared out?"

"Well it isn't hard to believe when I had someone like you helping me."

Jawan caught sight of Ms. Roselma, scuttled over to her and threw his arms around her waist. "Granny, I been working hard all day and I'm starving. What's for dinner?"

Ms. Roselma plied him with her smile and affectionately laid a hand on his head. "I don't know but we can talk about it on the walk home. Go get your brother and let's go."

"Jamal ain't here. He sick at home."

Ms. Roslema's cheeks slumped as her smile faded and her hand dropped to his shoulder. "I just come from home, stopped in to change my work clothes, and Jamal ain't there."

"But that's where he told me he'd be this morning. Sent me on my way down here."

"Ms. Roselma, I'm sure he just got to feeling better and went out with his friends."

"Uh huh, I'm gonna tan that boy's hide when I get ahold of him. He know the only places he supposed to go are here and home 'til I get home from work."

"I can take a ride around the neighborhood, see if I spot him anywhere," Danny offered

Ms. Roselma wagged a finger at Danny. "I can take care o' my own; I don't need no help from the likes o' you."

"Now, Ms. Roselma, Danny's only trying to help and besides Jamal's a big boy, he probably just out with his friends. Don't be too rough on him."

"Silas, whaddya know about it, huh? Have you ever raised young 'uns?"

"Why no, but I been around 'em all my life and I was a young 'un once myself. I remember what it's like to want to have a little freedom as you get older."

Ms. Roselma's hand slid across Jawan's shoulders, hugging him close to her body. "Silas, now you know as well as I do that freedom in this neighborhood spells trouble."

"But Ms. Roselma, all I'm saying is-"

"You may be saying, but I be knowing what I'm doing and I don't want to talk no more about it, you read me? And if you see Jamal you tell 'im the sooner he gets home, the less wearing it'll be on his hide."

Ms. Roselma humphed as she turned and swayed out the door with Jawan still cinched to her side.

"Jawan, what you want for dinner?" she said to him as they walked down the street

"Granny, I want pizza."

"Whaddya have for lunch, boy?"

"Pizza"

She humphed again as they turned the corner and Silas launched into his ruminations.

"Lordy, what is it with that woman? When she gets it in her head that she's right, she just won't let me talk to her, won't listen to a little reasoning. Think I might have some light to shed on the matter. Jamal is a good kid and she don't need to collar him so close to her. It's gonna backfire on her, I'm a tellin' ya. But is she listenin' to me? No she ain't, no siree she shore ain't … and it's gonna 'cause her a world of hurt. I'm a tellin' ya."

Danny clapped a hand on Silas' back hoping to give him some consolation in the matter. "That's just how some women are Silas. When they think they've got it all figured out and don't need your help, they just lock you out."

"Uh huh, ya got that right." Silas turned his pearly whites on Danny. "But enough about that. I know you got a pretty little lady waiting for you so why don't you take yourself on home."

"What about the contractors tomorrow? We're not finished."

"I can finish it up by myself."

"Silas I don't have but a couple more days here, so let's get as much done as we can while I'm here."

Silas dismissed him with a wave and began walking toward the corner containing the last pile of scrap metal. "No, no, no, you go on."

Danny followed. "C'mon I insist. We can have this knocked out by dark if I stay."

Silas paused with his hand on the pile, the other running over his bald head. "Well time is tight, and this scrap is heavy. I shore would appreciate it."

"It's a done deal just give me a minute."

* * *

"Hey Danny. Are you on your way back?" She turned her back on the podium as she answered the call.

_"No, we've still got some clearing to do before the contractors arrive tomorrow. Probably won't be on my way before dark. I know we had plans for dinner but-"_

"Oh no that's okay, you help Silas."

_"Thanks. Your day okay?"_

"Umm it was okay but …" She couldn't help that sigh that escaped. "I pulled a tough case."

_"Wanna talk about it?"_

"I don't have time right now. I'm at the university about to give a symposium."

_"You mean for Rand Silsbee?" Danny couldn't help the irritation that crept into his voice. "I thought you were done with those."_

"No, don't you remember? I told you about it the other day. This is my last one."

_"Okay but when this one is done you aren't thinking about renewing the contract, are you?"_

"Aww Danny, I think you're a little jealous. That's sweet."

_"Montana, I'm not jealous, I just don't like that Rand guy … heard too many stories about him."_

"I don't know what stories you've heard, but he's actually a nice guy once you get to know him, and besides I'm just giving a symposium to a room full of university students not having an intimate dinner with him, so you have no worries."

_"Alright, alright, I'll call you when I get back in and if it's not too late we'll do dinner."_

"I'll hold you to that, Cowboy but I've got to run; it's time to start."

"Okay, bye"

"Bye"

She pressed 'End', then thumbed through the menu options until she found 'Silence Ringer' and pressed it.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said to Rand as he approached the podium.

"Let's get this show on the road then."

--

Feelings of both relief and poignancy assailed her as the last of the students left the lecture hall. She'd enjoying preparing and presenting these symposiums. They had given her another outlet for utilizing her CSI training without directly dealing with gruesome crime scenes … _and doleful victims_. The shudder erupted from the inside out again as she recalled the family of victims she'd processed earlier in the day.

"You, okay?" Rand asked as he helped her stack her files back into the box.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay … just, just had a tough crime scene today, that's all." She closed laptop and slipped it into the bag. She wasn't sure why she'd revealed that to him. Maybe it was wearing on her mind more than she had realized. But she thrust it aside for the moment. "Rand, I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed preparing and giving these symposiums. I'm going to really miss the experience."

"Maybe you won't have to give up the experience completely." He gestured to two people who approached the podium to stand next to him. "Lindsay, this is Dr. Bill Malvern, head of the Department of Forensic Science and this Dr. Ginny Tessarae who's with the Department of Biology."

Rand gestured towards Lindsay, training his wide, easy smile on her. "This is Detective Lindsay Monroe, our part time symposium presenter extraordinaire and fulltime NYPD CSI."

Lindsay felt her cheeks tinge with color at Rand's flourishes on her talents but it did feel good to be so appreciated.

Dr. Malvern extended a hand as he said, "Lindsay, that was a wonderfully, engaging presentation and we wondered if you'd be interested in a position with the University?"

Lindsay shook Dr. Tessarae's hand in turn as she said, "Umm … well … I haven't really considered it and I don't know if I'd really be a good candidate. I don't have a PhD."

Dr Malvern explained, "Well, it wouldn't be as a professor, although you're always welcome to work on a PhD here, but it would be more of a liaison position between academia and the working world. Rand's been working on a program to better prepare the students for and provide them a seamless transition into the working world."

"Sounds like a worthy idea to me."

"Unfortunately, with his fulltime teaching and research duties, Rand doesn't have the time to implement the program but he recommended you as a possibility for the position. Obviously you have familiarity and skills within the working world and you work well with the students," said Dr. Tessarae.

"I, I don't know … I've just never given much thought to changing careers."

Rand interrupted. "I tell you what, seeing as it's dinnertime why don't we all go out and catch a bite to eat while we discuss the idea."

"Good idea," agreed Dr. Tessarae.

"I'm in," said Dr. Malvern.

"Lindsay?"

"Sure, I'm free and I'd definitely love to hear to more about the opportunity."

--

As she treated herself to a taxi ride home after the dinner meeting with Rand, Dr. Malvern and Dr. Tessarae, she ran through their offer again in her mind. She had to admit that it was a tempting offer – to be able to utilize her skills and knowledge as a CSI but reduce her exposure to the crime scenes. She had to admit that part of the job was the least enjoyable for her, actually quite harrowing at times. The family of victims from earlier in the day flashed across her mind and the shudder from the inside out rocked her body. Maybe it was time for her to get out before she completely burned out. She'd couldn't wait to discuss it with Danny. He could relate to the downsides of the job – especially after Ruben. Her emotions twinged. She wondered if he'd made it back from the Bronx yet. He hadn't called. She pulled out her phone to call him when she realized she'd never turned the ringer back on. Checking she saw that there were four calls and four messages from him, each message subsequently mirroring his mounting worry over where she was. She bit her lip as she dialed his number and the taxi pulled up in front of her building.

When Lindsay emerged from the taxi, Danny was waiting for her.

"Lindsay, where have you been?"

"I'm sorry I forgot to turn my ringer back on after the symposium. I've been out to dinner with Rand and-"

"Rand? I thought you said this wasn't an intimate dinner date."

"It wasn't!" She stalked passed him, rebuking him. "And that was uncalled for Danny." She let herself into her building and he followed her.

"Then what was it?"

She marched up the stairs, fuming the entire way, not really sure what to say to him – to Danny – the man whose emotions seemed to have led him to conclusions before he'd allowed her the chance to explain. She jabbed her key at the lock once, twice before it slide in. She unlocked the door, turning to stand in the open doorway, denying _that man_ access to her apartment.

"It was a business dinner. He offered me a job!"

"A job? You aren't actually thinking about taking it, are you?"

She lifted her chin in defiance. "I am."

"Let me in Lindsay, we need to talk about this."

"No! I don't want to discuss this with you. Not when you're like this."

He palmed the door and pushed against it. She braced her foot on the other side of it.

"Like what, Lindsay?"

"All emotional, like you haven't even considered the validity of the opportunity."

Danny snorted, "Validity of the opportunity. The man has the hots for you. All he wants is to sleep with you."

The smouldering inside her burst into flames at that comment. "How dare you reduce to just a piece of meat. How fucking dare you, Danny Messer? I have more to offer than my body and it's time you realize that."

"What?" Suddenly he stopped short; a grimace clenched his face then released it as he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. He let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry Lindsay, I'm sorry. You're right. I'm overreacting." The blue in his eyes watered and his voice softened. "Can I please come in and we can discuss it like two rational thinking adults?" A weak smile crossed his face.

She stepped back, giving access to _that man_. "Well, when you put it like that, yes."

He entered and dropped to her couch forearms resting on his thighs, his head drooping between his shoulders.

She sat beside him, almost hesitant to voice the thought, but feeling like she was on the right track, she took a stab at it. "Are you worried that since you did it … that .. that … I may do it too?"

"Do what?"

"You know … sleep with Rand."

He threw himself back into the couch, pushing his hands up over his face and through his hair causing it to spike crazily. "I know it sounds silly, but after what I did, I wonder … you know … I don't know. It's crazy. It can happen. But I know it's wrong to make assumptions about your behavior based on mine."

She slid a hand into his, tilting her head to look into his face, a smile playing around her lips. "You sound like a man who's been hanging out with a counselor."

His emitted a self-deprecating laugh from deep in his throat as he squeezed her hand. "Who would have thought? Me, Danny Messer, sounding like a rational adult."

"You are more than a mess of emotions when you put your mind to it."

They laughed, together, at that, and he slid an arm around her, pulling her back into the couch with him. She fingered one of the buttons on his shirt for a moment then palmed his chest as she looked up at him. "Look Danny, I'm with you now. And that's who I want to be with. I'm happy with my choice. If I'd wanted to be with Rand, I would have stayed with Rand."

"I know, you're right …" he said, then backpedalled, "What? Wait a minute, what did you say?"

Lindsay realizing she may have iginited the situation again, scrambled to diffuse it. "Nothing. I'm with you now Danny and we're happy. Let's talk about something else."

He disengaged his arm from around her and straightened up, sitting sideways on the couch, one arm resting on the back as he leaned in towards her. "No, I want to talk about this? Did you sleep with him?"

She bristled at his accusatory tone. "None of your business, Danny."

"It is my business."

"It isn't, so leave it alone."

"No, I won't leave it. I want to talk about it."

"I don't."

"I do."

"Then you can leave."

"Fine, maybe I will."

"Fine. The door's right there."

* * *

**A/N: I didn't really mean to leave it there but to continue would have put the chapter into marathon lengths. Next chapter up soon, I promise!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Thanks to MariaLisa for her read through and suggestions on this chapter. Thank you to everyone else for reading, reviewing, putting the story on alerts and favorites but most of all being patient. Aie, what a chapter to write!!**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 26**

He stared at the door. Why, oh why had he let his emotions overcome him again? What had it gained him? Nothing! He looked at her – eyes staring straight ahead, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest, back rigid and straight – it was a stance he knew only too well. He massaged the back of his neck, buying time, letting his emotions cool knowing hers had already been locked away. But maybe that could work to his advantage. Maybe they could have a calm and reasonable conversation now if both their emotions were under wraps.

Aiming for neutrality, he said, "Lindsay, I just want to talk, that's all. I don't want to lay blame, I just want to talk. Can we do that?"

"Not about Rand."

Whatever tender spot he'd inadvertently touched, it always seemed to be too tender to deal with head on. Past encounters told him how this would play out; he'd acquiesce to her wishes, leave her alone until she regained her equilibrium, nothing resolved and nothing gained, normalcy eventually returning until the next time he inadvertently touched a tender spot. But he realized as he stared at her profile that he couldn't play it like this anymore; he wanted more than the surface normalcy; he wanted her to be able to talk to him, tell him things because he wanted to talk to her, tell her things. Why couldn't she see that?

Sliding his hands along his thighs, palming his knees; he hoisted himself off the couch, stepped around her and headed to the door. He heard her leave the couch as he reached the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a split second then he turned, leaning back against the door, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching her as she crossed the room to the window – her posture still taut and rejecting. Damn it! He hated being on the outside without a window to the inside, the inside of her. It made things so … hard.

She looked down into the street and a curtain of hair fell across her face, the strands tipped slivery white by the moonish glow of the city lights. Her slim hand captured and secured the wayward strands behind her ear. Her posture loosened almost imperceptibly as her hand dropped, curling around her neck, elbow bracing in her other hand.

He couldn't understand how she was always able to shut down her emotions, hold on to them until they receded and she could respond again in a cool, calm and rational manner. Oh he could admire it, always had and still did, because containing and controlling his emotions had never been his strength. But while he admired it, he realized it shut him out, kept him from truly knowing her, left him with a sense that she didn't trust him with her emotions. Then suddenly he realized something else – the very thing that he admired about her was the very thing that hurt him.

Propelled by that realization, he crossed the room to stand behind her, calling her name softly. She said not a word, but her head turned, her chin rested on her shoulder, eyes still cast downward but he could sense her attentiveness, so he spoke.

"Do you remember in Key West when you said the things you love most about me are the things that hurt you the most?"

"Yeah, I remember that."

He took a deep breath before saying, "Well, it's a two way street."

She sucked her lips into her mouth – whether it was in anger, hurt or something else he didn't know but he knew it was now or never. Running the words through his mind quickly before he said them, hoping that they'd come out as he intended, that she'd hear them as he intended, he finally gathered his courage and said, "The way you hold on to emotions is amazing; I've always admired that about you. But … but as amazing as it is, sometimes it hurts, makes it hard to …" He took a deep breath in order to steady the words before he said them. "When you shut me out because you don't want to talk about something … something I feel like I could help you through, something that would let me know you better … it makes me feel like you don't trust me. Like … like you have no confidence in me. And that makes me doubt myself and … it makes me doubt us … whether we should even be together at all. And believe me when I say I don't want to feel that way because I do want to be with you – in every way possible."

She dropped her chin into her chest, hunching her shoulders as her arms wrapped around her in that defensive posture he knew so well, her voice whispering, "But Danny, I've never meant it that way … I've … ever since my friends … I umm, I don't want to burden others. That's just the way I deal with things."

He stepped around her, turning to face her as he leaned back onto the window sill, hoping that she'd at least look him but she kept her eyes downward, so he continued softly, "But that's not the way I deal with things."

Moments passed, her hands tightened around her elbows before she finally said, "I know that."

He reached out and cupped her elbow. "Okay well, when Ruben … you know …"

She lifted her head, her lips barely moving as she supplied, "Died"

"Yeah, died. I felt so alone, so confused, so desperate and I needed someone and believe me when I say you were the one I needed and the one I wanted."

She jerked her elbow out of his hand. "Don't you even try to-"

He stood, hands gesturing wildly. "But's it's true, Lindsay! I did!"

"Then why did you walk away from me in the morgue when I tried to comfort you? Why? I don't understand that Danny! Why?"

His hands splayed across his chest in earnestness. "Think about it. Mac was there, my boss. It was a shock and I had fucked- up- … lost- someone's- child! And I didn't want to break down in front of him and I wasn't ready to face it all just yet. I … I just assumed you'd come around later on and … you didn't. The days passed … and you didn't … and, well, you know the rest."

"Oh no you don't! Don't you even try to pin your sleeping with Rikki on me – like somehow it's my fault."

"I'm not trying to do that, Lindsay, I swear. I'm just trying to tell you how I felt, what … what I was going through."

"But I was just trying to give you your space."

He couldn't back away from the need to comfort her or dissipate her anguish anymore than he could back away from the drive to say what he needed her to know and understand therefore he stepped closer to her, gently palming her shoulders and softening his tone as he said it. "But I didn't need my space, I needed you."

She jerked away from his touch. "You could have told me that. You could have called me and said, 'I need you Lindsay, can you come over?' but no, you slept with Rikki instead and that- is- not- my- fault." Whirling away from him, she stalked down the hall to her bedroom and slammed the door a split second before he reached it.

He slapped his hands against it in frustration. "Damn it Lindsay, you're not hearing me."

She shouted back through the door, "Oh, I'm hearing you loud and clear, Danny. And it is not my fault!"

"Okay, you're right. Is that what you want to hear? You- are- fucking- right- Lindsay- Monroe," he shouted back. "I should have called you, should have let you know I needed you, because fuck me that I might expect or anticipate that the woman I love would be there for me when I needed her without me having to ask for it. Do I have to beg for it, Lindsay? Is that how two people who are together, who supposedly love each other do it? Oh and by the way, me, sleeping with Rikki is not your fault either. Have I said it loud enough for you? Huh? You want me to say it again? Even louder this time? I can say it louder if you want. Is that what want from me, huh? Just tell me what the hell you want from me?"

"I want you to stop shouting at me."

He growled as he slapped both palms against the door again. He hated it when she did that, redirected the argument to something irrelevant and mundane. He pressed his back against the door jamb, sliding down until he hit the floor, letting the emotions eddy around him. What else could he do? Damned if he was reasonable, damned if he was emotional neither seemed to pierce her defenses. There seemed to be nothing left for him to do but wait, wait in the silence, in the silence that brought no assurances – only heightened uncertainties and insecurities, wait in the silence … until she decided to break it.

And he waited in the silence, for however long he could wait and when he could wait no longer he vowed this would be his final effort. After this, the ball would be in her court.

"Lindsay, can you hear me?"

At first he thought she wasn't going to answer but finally her "Yes", devoid of any fight or determination, echoed through the door.

A deep breath, a woosh of air through his lips then he laid it all out as he saw it. "Lindsay, I love you. I want you, and I need you. I want our relationship to work. But at some point you have to let me in. It'll never work if you don't let me in." He drew his legs up under him, rocked into a squat and stood. He sighed heavily. "Can you let me in?" Then he waited.

So unexpected was the click when he heard it, he flinched, then realized the door was now ajar. He heard a rustling and a creak, as he pushed it open, but he had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust for it was dark in her bedroom, darker than the living room. But then he saw her huddled on the bed. Two steps and he was there, crawling across it, settling in behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, propping his head up on the other, trying to read her emotions from her profile.

She threaded her fingers through his, pulling his hand up to her cheek, nestling into his palm. He closed his eyes as her lips fluttered against it, letting the softness in her voice caress him, comfort him, finally, give him hope. "I'm so sorry, Danny. You're right. I understand now that my behavior has hurt you even though it wasn't intentional. I am …" And her admission came out on a shaky exhale. "I am just so afraid."

"It's okay, trust me when I say it's okay. All I want is to understand. What are you afraid of? It's just me. Why don't you want to share things with me? Don't you trust me?"

She shifted onto her back, meeting him face to face. "It's not that I don't trust you; it's myself I don't trust."

"Why?"

"It's a struggle each and every day … to admit when I'm less than perfect."

"But Lindsay none of us are perfect."

"I know, it's diabolic isn't it? But when your friends die a heinous death and you survive … how … how … how can you justify being alive if you're less than perfect? Don't you see? I can't ... so I shut it away."

He brushed his thumb across her lips. "Oh, Linds, you have to let go of that. Their deaths are no more your fault than me sleeping with Rikki is. Just let it go."

"I don't know if I can. I do it so often and I've done it for so long that …" Her face turned away as her words trailed off.

Fingers firm along her jaw he guided her face back to his. "I think you can if you let someone else in, let someone else know your emotions when you feel them, let someone else support you when you need it."

"You mean someone like you?"

"Not like me. I mean me."

He felt the curl of her smile against the palm of his hand and he rested his head on the pillow next to her, his lips murmuring against the skin of neck, "C'mon Linds, let it be me. Let me in." A breath shuddered through her and her hand feathered along his forearm. She hadn't answered him, but he felt the shift, intangible but palpable, and he closed his eyes. And because it had been such a physically demanding day and an emotionally tolling night, without thought, it lulled him towards sleep until she spoke, so softly but yet so distinctly he knew he couldn't have dreamed it.

"You know why I did it?"

"Did what?"

"Sleep with Rand."

He was awake now, barely able to breathe, feeling all kinds of crazy in that he wanted to know, but yet he was struggling to be the bigger man when he said, "Look you don't have to tell me that. We weren't even together when it happened and it really is none of my business."

She propped up onto her elbow, half of her face veiled by the shadow, the other lit by the moonish glow of the city lights. "But I want to tell you. I want you know … so you never have to wonder. But most of all I want you to know that I trust you and …" Her fingers fiddled with a button on his shirt. "And that I'm going to try to trust myself to admit when I'm less than perfect."

"Okay"

"I slept with Rand because I wanted to feel good."

He'd always thought of Lindsay as an extremely complex person so the simplicity of her answer surprised him – and it hurt him, even more than he thought it would – and he couldn't help asking what any red-blooded male would ask. "Did it work, Lindsay? Did he make you feel good?"

She palmed his cheek. "Honestly, only as long as I could block you from my mind, which I couldn't do for very long." Then she smiled. "You're a persistent little bugger, even in my memories."

He smirked. "I told you I don't give up easily."

But her smile faded and so did his as she continued. "Then I knew I had to give us another chance before I could even consider moving on – whether it be with you, without you, with someone else or even with no one at all." Her hand had moved back to his chest, her finger fiddling with the button on his shirt again. "I had to figure out if what we had had between us was real or not."

"And …"

"And what?"

"Do you think it's real?"

Her finger stopped fiddling. "I know it's real."

His hand curled hers bringing it to his lips. ""It's real for me too, so real, Lindsay, so real, I can't even begin to describe it, other than to say I love you."

"There is no better way to say it, Danny, other than to say, I love you too."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Okay just remember we've all been in relationships and they can be quite complicated at times! :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 27**

She rolled to the edge, too close to the edge and jerked back, eyes on the ceiling until they focused, then slid to the right … remembering … remembering what a bed hog he was! She resisted the urge to poke him until he shifted over because her body confirmed what a glance to the left revealed to her – it was time to get ready for work. She didn't know what he had on tap for today, but she decided to let him sleep at least until she had evicted the dragon seething in her mouth, shed the previous day's clothes mummified around her body and tamed the monster inhabiting her hair.

By the time she'd showered and dressed, he'd disappeared from the bed but she smelled the coffee as she entered the kitchen … and the pancakes. He made the best pancakes; she'd missed them, she'd missed him, missed him in her kitchen, missed him everywhere around her.

She watched as he transferred the last of the pancakes from the skillet to the stack with a flip of the wrist. He grinned at her as he set the plate of pancakes on the table, wiping his hands along his thighs afterwards. "Join me in demolishing a stack, Montana?"

She sat and forked into the stack. "Gladly, you know I can't resist your pancakes."

"Bet that's not all you can't resist about me."

"Mighty full of yourself this morning, aren't you Cowboy?"

"Maybe." A grin stretched across his face. He shrugged. "Pancakes today … tomorrow ... who knows?" Leaving it there, he pointed a fork at her. "Besides you know you can't fight crime on an empty stomach."

And suddenly she didn't like the way her emotions were responding to those words, 'fight crime'. Her eyes slid past him and she bit her lip while she tried to think of something more neutral to say than what had arisen in her mind.

He cocked his head until he could meet her eyes, a note of worry in his voice as he spoke, "Hey, did I say something wrong?" She bit her lip harder and shook her head. He reached across the table and tapped a finger to her temple as he said, "Then let me in there, Montana."

Misjudging the distance to the plate, her fork fell with a clatter and she let out a shuddering breath, She was going to have to get used to doing this, needed to get used to doing this, wanted to get used to doing this … but it was just … so… scary.

He set his fork down, speaking softly, "You don't have to be afraid, it's just me, remember? Just me."

She released the vise clamp on her lip, smiling weakly. "You're right. You're right, I know you're right." Another breath, this one less shuddering, more cleansing. She tapped a finger to her temple. "It's not what's going on in here, it's … it's what's going on in here." She laid her hand across her heart.

"Okay so what's going on in there?" He tapped the hand palming her heart.

Her hands flew to her lap to begin their writhing and wringing, but at least she managed a tilt to her chin that kept her face to face with him. "Danny, I don't know if I want to … fight crime anymore, I don't know if I'm cut out for it, particularly the crime scenes, they just seem to get harder and harder to handle."

"Okay, okay, that's fair enough." He rushed to give her options, to reassure her. "I know it might be a step down for you but you're fantastic in the lab, why don't you just look for a fulltime position within the lab."

"I … I … I don't think … I mean as much as I love lab work, I don't want to be stuck in the lab all day long."

He sighed and tilted back in the chair, hands tucked into his armpits, speaking carefully. "So … do you have something in mind?"

She forced herself into calmness by palming the table, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'm considering the job at the University." He stared at her and time stretched as did her nerves. She wasn't used to this Danny, the one who was quiet, hopefully, contemplative. Was he thinking? What was he thinking? She wanted to know, but she was almost afraid to ask, afraid that he-

His chair thudded forward as his forearms came to rest on the table. "I don't know what to say except that after I screwed up, I probably deserved the irony of this situation."

She folded her hands into his. "Danny, it's not about Rand, I can assure you. I'm not interested in him in the least. But what I've been feeling about the job, in particular the crime scenes, that's … that's been happening for a while and … when this opportunity presented itself … well it's … it's like a sign."

He squeezed her hands, his eyebrows quirked above the rim of his glasses. "Like a sign, huh?"

"Yeah, like a sign."

Another sigh then he said, "I was really looking forward to being back in the lab with you, you know working the cases …"

"I know."

"But I can't say I blame you really."

"I know." She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Look I can give you more details later that'll probably put your mind more at ease but right now, but I've got to get to work before I'm late, okay?"

"Okay," He waved a hand at her. "Go on, get out of here, we'll talk later." He stabbed a fork into the stack. "Guess I'll just have to handle this stack on my own."

She laughed, "I'm sure you can handle it." She gathered her things, calling "See you tonight," just before she closed the door behind her.

"Yeah, tonight," he mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.

--

Ty crossed his arms over the back of the chair. "So how'd that make you feel?"

Danny shook a finger at him. "I knew you were going to ask that."

"It's my job."

"Do you ever get tired of your job?"

"Yes, do you?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Honestly, I just never thought about it. I'm good at it; I enjoy it, even the tough stuff like the crime scenes. Sometimes talking to the victim's families bothers me but …" Danny shrugged. "I don't know, I mean it's all a part of the job, right?"

"So what bothers you more? The fact that Lindsay wants out or the fact that she'll be working with someone she used to be involved with?"

"She wasn't really involved with him, I mean, yeah she slept with him but she wasn't really … shit … definitely that she'll be working with him. Is that wrong?"

"It's not wrong to feel things, Danny, just wrong to act inappropriately on those feelings."

"So what should I do?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yeah, I'm asking you!"

"Okay, what if for some reason you had to be around Rikki again?"

"Uh Uh, no way, ain't gonna happen."

"How'd you leave things between you and Rikki?"

"What? Um … last time I saw her, she was upset. She was moving out and I couldn't change her mind. Said she couldn't stand to be around the memories … to be around me … since … since I was the last one to see him alive."

"Ruben?"

"Yeah, Ruben, Jesus Christ," His hand sliced through the air hitting his palm. "Who do you think I'm talking about?"

Those penetrating eyes, those dark penetrating eyes on him, he thought he'd become accustomed to those. But the only thing he'd become accustomed to is being better able to decipher the message in their depths. And this message was that he'd flunked, he'd flunked some kind of test and now he was going to do have to do something to make the grade, to redeem himself … and he was sure he was about to find out what that something was.

"Ever think about putting closure to that relationship?"

Fuck there it was. "Oh no, no, no. No fucking way. I've just patched things up with Lindsay and they're going great, better than they ever were and I'm not about to take any chances on screwing that up."

Ty reached back, grabbed the folder from the desk, flipped it open, scribbled something in it, then closed it and said, "Tell me, Danny, who do you trust the least, Lindsay, Rikki or yourself?"

"What kind of …" He threw himself back in his chair, a hand thrusting through his hair, muttering, "How did I ever wind up with you as a counselor?"

Ty tossed the file back to the desk. "You know who you can thank for that."

"Yeah, I know."

Ty stood. "Okay, well, we're out of time for today."

Again caught on his heels with the time issue, Danny protested. "Already? But I don't what to do-"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out and if not, you know where to find me. And don't forget 10 AM, Monday."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, you, me and Mac."

"Good, keep your nose clean until Monday, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

--

Sawdust swirling through the air, hammers pounding framings into place, sights and sounds of progress, of things moving along and of things moving on, as he moved through the old warehouse, spying Silas high on a ladder, shielding his eyes from the bright work lights brought in to aid in the construction, Danny said, "Hey Silas, this is looking like a real place."

Silas clambered down from the ladder and holstered his hammer in his tool belt, extending a hand to Danny, slapping him on the back with the other, pearly whites gleaming in his dark face. "Don't I know it? But I tell you Danny, lucky for me, you landed in that bit o' trouble when you did or I wouldn't be this far along."

"Yeah, I guess some good's come of it."

"You don't sound too chipper. I thought you'd be hellfire excited to get back to yo' life."

"I was. I mean I am." Danny panned the surroundings, scuffing his boot through a pile of sawdust, speaking to the place rather than the man. "It's just, well …" Then he looked at Silas again. "You ever have those days when you think you got it all figured out and things seem to be clipping along and then Boom! you feel like you're on a slippery slope again?"

"Uh huh, shore 'nuff." Silas wagged his head in that deliberate side to side motion like an alley cat on the lookout for danger. "Don't tell me, you got yo'self in another bit of trouble."

Danny put his hands on his hips, emitting a big sigh. "Nah, nah, just old trouble coming to life again-"

Jawan shouted from the doorway, "Hey Coach, you're here! We gonna practice today?"

Danny dropped his hands, striding over to Jawan. "Hey little bro! Of course we are. Big game tomorrow. Where's Jamal?"

Jawan thumbed over his shoulder. "Oh he outside with the rest of the guys. C'mon."

Danny resisted Jawan's tug on his hand for a moment longer to ask, "Silas, ya need me for anything?"

"No, no, the contractors got it from here. You just take care of those young 'uns, they the ones that need you now."

--

"Hey man, can I buy you a beer?"

Flack swiveled around on the barstool, grabbing Danny's hand, clapping him on the back with the other. "Messer! I knew your sorry ass was bound to surface again. How the hell are ya?"

"Doin' alright I guess. Mostly relieved you're not gonna deck me."

"Hell no, man, I figure you've already been through enough shit. Plus Lindsay's been sporting smiles for the last several days so I figure you've been redeeming yourself somehow."

"Yeah we've seemed to weathered the worst of it, I think."

"I don't have to tell you man, you're one lucky sonofabitch."

"Yeah, yeah I guess I am. Listen thanks for being there for her when … when I was being such an ass and all. I really owe ya for that."

"Yeah, you do … so …"

"So … what?"

Flack grinned. "I'm waiting for the apology."

Danny grinned back. "Fuck you, Flack!"

"That's good enough for me. Let's drink!" Flack straddled his barstool at his pronouncement.

Danny straddled his, "Couldn't said it better myself," and hailed the bartender. "Jake, bring us a round."

Jake threw his towel over a shoulder. "No can do, Messer. You haven't paid your tab from last month."

Danny splayed his hands across his chest, "C'mon Jake, I've been out of work this month but I'm good for it, you know I am."

Jake shook his head, "Sorry, house rules, man."

Flack nodded at Jake, "My tab."

Jake turned his attention to Flack. "House draft's on special, that okay?"

Flack circled a hand in the air. "Fine, fine, just keep 'em comin'," then turned toward Danny. "By the way, where's Lindsay tonight?"

Danny propped an arm on the bar while he grabbed a handful of nuts with the other. "She's pulling a double. A multiple surfaced on the east side and ..."

Jake set two mugs in front of them.

Flack grabbed his. "And?"

Danny swiveled the mug around until he could slip his fingers through the handle, pulling it across the bar, "I wished I could be out there …" submitting his wish to the amber depths as he stared into the mug. "You know take up some of the slack."

Flack picked up his mug, looking over the rim at Danny. "Missin' the job or are you worried about her?"

"Both actually. But she admitted she's losin' her stomach for the crime scenes. Wants to get out, take another job."

"Sounds like a plan to me. You have a problem with that?"

Danny swiveled the mug back and forth between his palms. "No … yeah, yeah I do!"

Flack set his mug down with a thunk. "Messer what's with you?"

Danny pushed his mug back as he hunched over the bar. "She wants to work for the University."

"Oh … with Silsbee I take it."

"Yeah, besides the fact the man's an ass he's also got a thing for her."

"No more an ass than you are, Messer."

Danny stared over his shoulder at Flack. "Yeah, believe me that thought's crossed my mind … how she could definitely do better than either of us but …" He looked back at his mug, finally picking it up, taking a gulp, then setting it down to swivel it between his palms again, "Well we finally got things ironed out between us and … now, with her job offer and this other issue that got tossed at me today."

"Other issue?"

"Rikki."

"Shit, don't tell me she's-"

"Hell no, actually I don't know. I mean she shouldn't be, but … but I haven't spoken to her since she moved out."

"So what are you gonna do?"

Danny stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. "I'd like to bury my head in the sand about it but it seems that Ty thinks there should be some closure to the relationship."

Flack quirked his eyebrows as his mug met the twist in his lips. "Ty? Closure?"

Danny trained his eyes on Flack. "Fuck you, man. I'm working my ass off to get my job back and if I don't tow the mark with this Ty character then Mac's gonna pull the plug on me."

"Jesus Christ, Messer. Have you talked to Lindsay about this … this closure?"

"Hell no … I mean I'm fucked no matter what I do. Talk, job; no talk, no job; talk, no Lindsay; no talk, Lindsay."

"So whaddya gonna do?"

"Guess, I'm gonna talk to her."

Flack flipped-flopped his hand. "Which her?"

Danny slapped his hands on the bar. "God dammit, Flack!"

Flack threw his hands wide. "I'm just asking!"

Danny sucked in a breath then let it out with intent. "It'll have to be both, but it's gonna be complicated. Lindsay's working tonight, so I'm not sure if she'll make it to the game tomorrow and I know she's on again tomorrow night, so that buys me some time, some time to figure out how to approach all this."

"Okay but you can't afford to fuck this up, Messer."

"Okay, Detective Genius, did your mama tell you were that smart or did you figure it all by yourself?"

"You're such an ass, Messer."

"C'mon man, you're making me nervous, let's just watch the game."

"Fine by me!" Flack flipped his hand in the air, "Jake, another round."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I'm off on vacation in a couple of days so be forewarned that their won't be an update for a couple of weeks but never fear, the story will be finished. And thanks as always for continuing to read.**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 28**

The boys huddled loose and careless, Danny bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees, insistent. "We have to have hold 'em if we want back in."

A voice, its owner poofing baseline sand into the air with a frustrated thrust of his toe. "But at five zip in the 6th, we ain't got a chance."

Danny leaned closer. "Only quitters ain't got a chance."

Another voice, hand fisting into a glove. "He's right, Coach, we suck."

Danny jabbed his finger around the huddle. "You know what? You're right. You suck. All of you suck. I don't even know why I'm here. Let's get Silas over here to coach you losers." He straightened, turning towards the stands, cupping his hands, "Hey, Silas!"

Jamal yanked Danny's arm. "Awright, awright, c'mon and quit shittin' us."

Danny turned back to the huddle. "Only if you guys start acting like you care." Not one pair of dark eyes rose to meet his. He squatted, peering up into their faces. "Look guys, we're not gonna get any better if we don't keep working at it even if our asses are getting whipped."

Denton eyes shifted to Jamal. "Yo Jamal. Whose fault is that? You tossin' wild today, man."

Jamal's eyes blazed at Denton as his mouth took up the challenge. "Shut the hell up Denton, you cain't even field a grounder when it rolls right to you.

Danny sprung up, emitting a sharp whistle, finally gathering all eyes to him. "Cool it or I'll bench you two and then it really will be your faults if we-" Curtailing his outburst by sucking in air then replying evenly on the exhale, "That isn't the point. The point is that we pull together and show these guys that whether or not we lose this one, they better watch out for us on the next one."

"Yo, Coach I get ya, like we give 'em a fight," Jawan piped up from the beneath the overhang of the huddle.

"Exactly Jawan! Now even though they're ahead I bet they're still going to try to load the bases, but their next two batters are weak so Jamal you can strike 'em out easy."

"But I don't know if-"

"Jamal you might not know, but you have to believe you can," Danny tapped his temple and then his heart, "here and here," then let his eyes drift around the huddle, "That goes for all of you. Now, no holes in the outfield and on the off chance they get batters on base, always nail the guy heading home before anyone else, got it?"

Danny thrust his hand into the huddle. Hands layered lackadaisically atop his, voices chanted weakly on the beat, "Fight, fight, fight."

As the hands dropped and the bodies turned to shuffle to the outfield, Danny waved his arms. "Hey, hey, hey get your pansy asses back here and do it like we mean it!"

Layering hands again, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

--

"Ball Four!" declared the ump. "Take your walk."

"Lordy, Jamal ain't throwing 'em clean today."

"It's to be expected, Ms. Roselma. He just a young'un and still learnin'"

Danny readjusted his cap, whistling between his teeth to get Jamal's attention. "It's okay Jamal, ain't nothing but a walk to first. You'll get an out on the next one."

Jamal knuckled the ball behind his back as he nodded his understanding. Shifting back, drawing leg to chest as his arms pulled in, he let the momentum sail a clean one across the plate, an answering whoosh of the bat as it sliced through air.

"Strike one!"

"You're on track now, Jamal" Danny clapped twice then stowed his hands back into armpits, rocking back on his heels waiting for the next pitch.

Another sail and another slice at ball-less air.

"Strike two!"

Teammates from both sides began yelling encouragements to their own. Jamal adjusted his cap with a palm pull from the back, lifting the brim. He glanced to the stands then back to home plate, shifting his weight back, swinging his arms up to pull them into the pitch, his eyes drifted back to the stands and stalled. Team calls heightened in intensity and volume. Dropping his arms, he straightened, his eyes searching the stands.

"Lordy, what's going on with that boy?"

"Don't know, Ms. Roselma. He ain't looking directly at us but he look like he searching for someone or something in our general direction."

"Uh huh." Ms. Roselma leaned forward, swiveling her head right and left, muttering to herself, "I hope he ain't showed …"

Silas looked at Ms. Roselma, wrinkles stacking across his forehead. "You hope who ain't showed?"

Ms. Roselma began fanning herself at the rate of a hummingbird's wings, "Ain't nobody, ain't nobody."

Danny whistled then yelled through cupped hands, "Focus Jamal."

Ms. Roselma, stopping mid fan to point toward the sidelines, said, "I don't like Danny yellin' at Jamal like that. He making him more nervous than he already is."

"Now Ms. Roselma he just being a coach. That's how they do."

"Humph!"

Jamal eyes drifted back to homeplate, he shifted, pulled in and lifted quickly, too quickly the ball sailed wide on the release, wide into the batter that arched back but still caught it on the shoulder.

"Ouch!"

The ump stepped forward and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, peering into his eyes. "You okay, son?"

The boy rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good enough to walk it to first base?"

The boy dropped his hand, swung his arm in arc a couple of times, glaring at Jamal. "Yeah, I'm good to go to first."

As the boy jogged to first, the runner on first jogged to second and the ump resumed his position, declaring, "Batter up."

"Shake it off, Jamal!" A scatter of encouragements from the outfield echoed Danny's.

For the next pitch, Jamal sailed one low across the plate, too low, but the batter swung anyway, up under it, popping it into the air toward left field, Denton, at third, angling his glove caught it. The ump called the first out; Denton turned and tagged the surprised runner heading towards third. The ump called the second out. Denton tossed the ball to his teammate on second who chased down the final runner for the third out. The boys now in high spirits, ready for their last turn to lay bat to ball, hooted and catcalled as they passed their opponents heading to the outfield.

Danny high fived the boys as they returned to the dugout. "That's the way to play the game," he said as they arranged themselves on the bench in batting order.

"Yeah, no thanks to Jamal's wild pitches," Denton screeched.

Jamal reared back with a fist which Danny caught handily. "Everybody hits a bump here and there, Jamal; you have to learn to let it go." Danny stared at Jamal until he visibly relaxed. Dropping Jamal's hand, Danny addressed Denton. "If you can't support your teammates no matter how they play, I'll bench you, you get me, Denton?"

After a moment Denton lifted his chin slightly. "Yeah, I get ya, Coach."

"Listen, this is our chance to show these guys that when we come to play, we play hard. Are you ready to give it your all?"

A chorus of "yeah", and "hell yeah," echoed throughout the dugout as the ump called, "Batter up."

A mere two hits later with no crossing of the home plate, the ump called the third out and the teams lined up to pass through the required 'Good Game' hand slaps. Jamal last off the line approached Danny. Lacing his fingers into the chainlink surrounding the dugout, he said, "I played like crap, didn't I?"

Danny slid the last bat in a bag and cinched it tight. "It doesn't really matter how you played just what you do with it next time you go out there."

"But I just don't feel good about it, ya know what I mean. What do I do until the next time?"

Danny heaved the bag to his shoulder as he grinned at Jamal. "Ah that's easy you go out and do something to get your mind off of it."

"Yeah? What did you used to know do, you know when you had a bad night?"

"Well, I'd get some buddies and go get ham-" Danny hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder, "I mean we'd go hang out and blow off some steam."

"Yeah, I get ya. We like to hang out at Dooley's."

With no desire to end up on the wrong side of Ms. Roselma Danny thought he better find out more about Dooley's before he sanctioned it. "Dooley's?"

"Yeah, Dooley's. Place down on the Vickers and Piedmont where we hang and play arcade games."

"There you go, exactly what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, but tomorrow Sunday, bet Granny won't let me go." Jamal pressed into the chainlink fence, his hopeful look squashed flat. "Maybe you could talk to her?"

"Jamal, I don't think I'd be much help with your granny." Danny lowered the bag to the ground, reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and rifled through the bills. "But I tell you what, here's twenty bucks. Maybe she'll cut you loose on Sunday afternoon."

"Yeah, thanks, Coach."

Hoisting the bag to his shoulder again, Danny stepped out of the dugout. "No problem. But I'm starving. Let's find out where the guys decided to go to lunch."

--

Hawkes palmed the door jamb and leaned into the office. "Lindsay."

Lindsay yawned and stretched her arms above her head as she swiveled away from her desk towards Hawkes. "Hey Sheldon, what's up?"

"There's been another match on the ballistics report we've been tracking."

Her hands dropped to the arms of her chair. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not, but I don't have time to check it out, I'm on my way out to a crime scene. Can you-"

"Sure, sure, I'm off in a few minutes but I'll find out what I can before I leave and let you know."

Hawkes straightened, shifting the kit from one hand to the other. "Thanks Lindsay, maybe this will be the break we're looking for."

"Hope so," Lindsay mumbled as she turned back to her desk to pull up the ballistics report. Scanning, confirming details she already knew, retrieving the autopsy report, viewing the victim's photo, her hopes clashed with deep forebodings. She made the call to the 45th precinct, requesting and receiving a faxed copy of the case details thus far. Hurrying down the hall, she jabbed at the elevator button, waiting for a call to connect on her cell. Stepping into the elevator as her call went directly to voicemail. Of course there'd be no way he'd be awake this hour of the morning and even less chance that he'd be responding to his cell phone. With a sense of trepidation, she realized she'd have to go to him.

--

Little more than a month had passed since she'd been here last. Now, here again with no choice but to enter, she grappled with memories of the past in hopes of securing a future – not her future, but another's. She buzzed but no received no response and just like last time, a resident, up for an early Sunday morning jog, came through and she slipped inside, climbing stairs quickly to his floor. Eyes resolutely down, counting the skewed strips of light from underneath the doors, although now skewed in reverse, she passed _that_ door without incident and rapped on his before she could allow memories to chase her away.

Her hands wringing and writhing, one arm sandwiched the file folder close to her body as the bolts were drawn back, everything within her centered on his face when it appeared in the gap, his eyes squinching, body bracing against the door jamb, voice grizzled with sleepy surprise. "Linds, what're doin' here at," pausing to look over his shoulder, "at, I think, seven freakin' thirty in the morning? Is everything alright?" He pushed the door wide as he reached for her, mumbling, "Come in."

She stepped back and her arms crossed her chest in spite of her good intentions. "No, no, I … I can't."

"But why-"

"Look I really need to talk to you, it's urgent … but … but I can't do it in … in there ..."

He jammed a finger and thumb into his eye sockets squeezing the bridge of his nose as if trying to make sense of something he couldn't quite figure out.

Gesturing down the hallway, she said, "I'll meet you in coffee shop on the corner."

She turned and he caught her by the hand. "Linds, I'm sorry, I just wasn't thinking, okay?"

She couldn't help the sigh that escaped. "I'm trying … really I am … but I'm just not ready … to … to be here ... yet."

"Hey, I know you're trying, it's okay." He squeezed her hand. "Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs."

She began to turn away he pulled her back, fingers under her chin, tilting her face to his. "Thanks for coming."

Her voice as soft as her eyes, "See you downstairs."

--

Lindsay set a cup of coffee in front of Danny as he lowered himself into the booth. Leaning forward he wrapped his hand into one of hers as he gripped the cup with the other.

"Is this about us, Linds?"

She shook her head, blinking her eyes a couple of times. "What? Oh god, no Danny, sorry. I should have given you some indication."

His breath wooshed through his lips as he shifted back into the booth, taking a swig of his coffee.

"No, it's about a case."

Settling an arm along the back of the booth, he said, "Okay, you need to talk it out?"

Her hand tightened on the file folder in her lap. "Yeah … something like that."

Danny gave a small laugh, "Something like that? Please tell me I ain't a suspect, Montana."

She startled, "No," then smiled, "you're not a suspect, Danny." The smile faded as she began. "Hawkes and I have been tracking a couple of cases with seemingly no connection to each other except for identical ballistics' reports."

"Same murder weapon in both cases."

"Right, but no murder weapon was recovered in either case and the most viable suspect in each case had an airtight alibi until …"

"Until what?"

"Until late last night …"

"That's a good thing, right? Now you have a suspect that may be able to tell you something to break the other two cases, right?"

Feeling her voice fading as she said it, "Yeah, a break," she decided to feed it to him slowly. Keeping the file folder in her lap, she slid the photo across the table. "This is the latest victim. Do you know him?"

He fingered it, sighing heavily in relief, "No, not that I know …" looking at her, shaking his head in puzzlement, "Should I know him?"

"Michael Wilkinson"

"Wilkinson?" His blue eyes iced then swam. "As in Jamal and Jawan?"

Hers swam in response. "Yeah, he's their father."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Obviously I've been back from vacation for a while now but the muse took much longer to return! :)**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 29**

Danny squeezed his eyes closed then blinked rapidly, allowing the coffee cup to absorb his visual shock, suffer beneath his punishing grip.

"What? How? I didn't even know they had a …"

"Apparently he wasn't much of a father but … yeah they did."

"Still it must be a shock." He started to rise from the booth. "I have to go see them … see if they need anything." Lindsay reached across the table, laying a hand on his forearm. He stalled, bracing back against the booth, staring at her hand as she spoke.

"Danny, he was murdered in Ms.Roselma's home."

He slumped into the booth.

"Holy Fuck."

"And … Jamal's missing."

Now he stared at her. "Missing? What do you mean missing? Like kidnapped missing? Possibly dead missing? What are we looking at here, Lindsay?"

"I'm sorry." Her nerves rattling at his ratcheting emotions, but determined to see this through with him, and for him, unlike last time, she steadied herself with a deep breath then said, "I know how close you two are-"

"Just tell me."

Easing her hand along his forearm and into his hand, "Most likely," steadying again, tightening her grip, she said, "on the run missing."

He jerked his hand from hers as he exited the booth. "That's it! I'm getting to the bottom of this."

She hurried after him inserting herself between him and the door. "Danny you can't go up there half-cocked you'll only make things worse."

Hands splayed across his chest his face hawking close to hers. "Worse? How can I make things worse? I know Jamal; he'll talk to me. Besides I know the system, I can help him through this if he's in trouble." He reached around her grasping the doorknob.

She tilted her chin up, bracing against the door as he tugged on the knob. "Like you helped Rikki through the system?"

"What?" The word twisted from his mouth then he gripped her arm, scuttling her into a corner of the coffee shop. "How did you know about that? Was it Flack?"

"It wasn't Flack." She tried to free her arm with a jerk but he held fast. "I heard things. But I didn't know for sure … not until now."

"What game are you playing Lindsay? Tell me, why did you even come here?"

Eyes locking with his, "Why did I- What game am I- What's with you, Messer? This is real life. A young boy – one who you have a rapport with – could have three murders riding on his back. Why do you think I came here?" Biting one lip then the other, she wrapped her arms around her body then whispered. "Besides I had to know."

Her emotional logic exposed his truth and he released her arm "I'm sorry. You have every right to know." He touched her cheek then rested his hand on her shoulder, fingers curling around the back of her neck. "I just reacted without thinking. I'm still working on that."

"I know you are."

"It's just when someone's in trouble, someone I'm close to or I feel responsible for, it just makes me … it makes me want to do whatever I can to fix it as soon as I can."

"I know that about you; you know I do." Her mind scrambled trying to figure out how to engage his help without sending his emotions into overdrive, without making a bad situation worse. "And I need your help, but …"

"But what?"

"I can't allow the investigation to be compromised."

Hands settling on his hips, he muttered to the floor, "I know."

--

A crisply painted door, the only one in this block of row houses for several doors on either side of it, noting the shifting of the lace curtains at the front window as she mounted the steps, she motioned to Danny. He hung back on the bottom step, slack against the stoop while she rapped on the door. Not wanting to announce their presence to the whole neighborhood she leaned in close to the door. "Ms. Roselma, it's Detective Lindsay Monroe of the New York City Crime Lab. I need to speak to about your son's death."

Locks slid back, the door cracked open, an almond shape eye peered through. "I know who you are and none of what you just said impresses me besides I've already talked to the local detectives and I shore don't need to speak to likes of you," widening the crack slightly, shifting her gaze beyond Lindsay, "or him."

"Ms. Roselma, I'm very sorry for your loss."

The crack widened to a chain's length, characteristic snap edging her voice, "My loss?"

"Your son, Michael."

"Girl, you know what he was. It was a blessing."

"Yes, I know what he was and I know," Lindsay gestured behind her, "from Danny, how lucky Jamal and Jawan are to have you rais-"

Glossy cornrows swung free around Ms. Roselma's face as she clucked her tongue. "Take your pie in the sky dribble back to your uptown lab. I ain't got nothing more to say to you about Michael's death or my grandsons' welfare."

Ms. Roselma's attempt to slam the door caught Lindsay with the rebuttal still in her throat but Danny, in split second anticipation, took three steps at once and threw a forearm against the door. Lindsay looked at him in surprise then gratitude and he, in turn, looked relieved then gestured for her to continue.

"Please." Lindsay held up the file folder. "This is bigger than just your son's murder."

The almond shaped eye glittered at them as the silence stretched. Danny shifted his weight, easing his pressure on the door slightly and spoke quietly. "Detective Monroe has additional information that I know you're not going to want to discuss in front of the neighbors."

"Neighbors! Look around you, I ain't got neighbors to speak of," Ms Roselma humphed her retort. "Not reliable ones anyways."

Lindsay opened the file, flipping over a couple of sheets, fingering a specific line, "There seems to be one," Looking pointedly at Ms. Roselma, "One reliable enough to cause those local detectives to be looking for Jamal … once they're back on shift."

Ms. Roselma's face twitched. The door closed, the chain slid free and clanked against the door jamb then the door opened enough for them to pass through directly into a tidy but sparse living room, a kitchenette on the right and a narrow staircase on the left, leading upwards. Ms. Roselma bolted the door behind them while Lindsay sat on a well worn couch and Danny remained standing, leaning against the wall next to the couch. Ms. Roselma perched on the edge of an arm chair facing Lindsay.

"Look, I don't know what your eyewitness told them detectives but Jamal ain't got nothing to do with Michael's murder. I told 'em, Jamal was at Dooley's last night when I heard voices arguing downstairs. When I come down, there was a strange man with a gun and next thing I know he shot Michael and bolted out the back door. I'm sure it was one of his crack head friends and they was looking to score some easy cash when things went wrong."

"That's what I read in the detectives' report." Lindsay pulled three crime scene photos from the folder and began lining them up across the coffee table. Although there was no reaction from Ms. Roselma when she laid down the photo of the victim from the posh hotel murder she heard Danny shifting against the wall. The second victim from The Village garnered no reaction from Ms. Roselma either but the third one of Michael caused her to look sharply at Lindsay.

"I know what he looked like when he was shot, I don't need to see it again."

"I'm sorry." Lindsay flipped the photo over. "But the other two. Do you recognize them at all?"

"Them white folks, you mean? I ain't never seen 'em before in my life. What they gotta do with Michael's murder?"

"They were killed with the same gun as Michael. Do you think Michael could have known them?"

"Know them? Michael only knew one thing – crack."

"How about Jamal?"

"Girl have you been listening? I told you, Jamal ain't got nothing to do with this."

"Okay for arguments sake let's say Jamal has nothing to do with this – that he wasn't even here last night. But you were."

"Uh huh, that's what I've been saying all along."

Lindsay suddenly left the couch and stood on the bottom step of the staircase looking in the direction of the kitchenette. "So you were here and the shooter had his back to you."

"That's right."

Lindsay walked across the living room into the kitchenette, stopping in front of the coffee colored refrigerator. "Michael would have had his back to the refrigerator." She turned around looking down at the floor. "So he must have fallen forward instead of backward because the detectives found him oriented toward the living room."

"Uh huh, that's exactly how they found him."

"But facing up instead of down … that's odd for a person falling forward."

"It ain't if the shooter shoved him as he fell forward so he wouldn't fall on him."

Lindsay walked back to the couch and sat down. "Sounds reasonable," She opened the folder scanning through the top sheet. "But what's not reasonable is the fact that the bullet went completely through Michael yet there was minimal blood splatter on the refrigerator."

"The detectives ain't say nothing about that last night."

"Blood splatter is hard to see against that color of refrigerator and the CSIs didn't finish processing the scene until after the detectives went off duty. The detectives also don't know where that through and through bullet ended up. But the CSIs know and it's all right here in the report."

"That don't prove nothing about whether or not Jamal was here."

"No, you're right. It doesn't. But it leaves doubt whether you're telling the truth about what happened here last night."

"You saying I'm lying?"

Lindsay ignored the accusation. "Ms. Roselma, I understand why someone would lie about something like this." She leaned closer, softening her voice. "To protect someone they love. Someone who has a chance at a decent life," Lindsay flipped over the photo of Michael and pushed it closer to Ms. Roselma. "As opposed to someone who doesn't."

Ms Roselma fingered the photo and a breath heaved through her body. "Jamal be like him in so many ways. I get so scared that he'll end up like him."

The couch sagged underneath Danny's weight as he sat down beside Lindsay. She looked back over her shoulder at him, the tension capping his hands on his knees, the silent plea burning in his eyes and she knew she couldn't resist his need to help any longer. She shifted back on the couch, granting him the opportunity – and her trust. He spoke for the first time since they had entered Ms. Roselma's home. "Ms. Roselma, We don't want Jamal to end up like Michael. That's why we're here."

Ms. Roselma fisted Michael's photo and shook it at Danny. "You don't care about Jamal." Then she jabbed it accusingly at the other two crime scene photos. "You just here on account of them two murdered white folk."

"Do you think that if that were true, we'd have come all the way up here to speak to you in person?" Danny paused, letting that thought settle before he offered the next one. "Trust me if that's all we cared about we would have just passed off the ballistics info to the local detectives here and waited to see what they turned up."

Ms. Roselma, casting her eyes downward, straightening Michael's photo then caressing a weathered brown hand over the face, whispered. "I don't know where he got the gun but he was just trying to protect us."

Dropping forearms to thighs, Danny leaned in, craning his head to catch Ms. Roselma's eyes, his tone soft. "That's exactly what I'd expect from Jamal – to do the right thing – to try to protect his family. And I'm sure once we talk to Jamal we'll be able to clear up this mess. But we need to find him. Do you know where he's at?"

Cornrows swayed the negative response.

A sudden creak from the staircase and a voice piped up, "I know where he at."

"Jawan, I told you to stay upstairs."

Jawan hopped off the bottom step and ran over to Ms. Roselma, clenching the hand gripping the arm of the chair in both of his, eyes expectant and hopeful, "But Granny I can help."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Thank you to all still reading, putting this story on alerts and favorites and of course reviewing. **

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 30**

Danny found the side door of the abandon building exactly where Jawan had said it would be – just to the right of a long since burned out chassis. He looked over his shoulder at Lindsay as he gripped the knob. "I'll go in first."

Lindsay curled her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Wait, you don't have a gun; I'll go first."

He turned around. "Lindsay, we don't have to worry about that. This is Jamal we're talking about."

"It doesn't matter who it is. You know the procedure for approaching a suspect that could be armed." She pulled her weapon from the holster at her hip, released the safety, and folded her hands around it, holding it low and ready.

"I know the procedure but this is different. Jamal's a kid-"

"A kid who shot someone."

He scrubbed the back of his head with his hand. "Okay … you're right." He motioned to her. "Let me have your gun."

She moved between him and the door. "No way, Danny! I meant what I said about compromising this investigation."

"C'mon Montana, what's gonna happen?"

"Anything could happen." She clicked the safety back on, shifted the gun to one hand and poked him in the chest with a finger. "For starters, my gun gets fired by you, when you're suspended, and that's IAB all over me. And you may not care about your career being in the toilet but that's not where I want mine."

Danny threw his arms wide. "You can't pull that on me, you know I care – your career, my career." He splayed his hands across his chest. "Hell, I've been walking the straight and narrow for a month now."

Looking him directly in the eyes, she said, "I'm not trying to pull anything on you, I'm just trying to make you think." Then she softened her voice. "Think about it, Danny … do you really want to chance throwing it all away … when … when you're so close?"

He held her eyes. "No, I don't but I don't want to let Jamal down either … he's …" He reached out and slapped the door behind her head. "For Chrissakes, Linds, he's just a kid."

"He is a kid." She wrapped a hand around his arm and gently pulled it down. "But a kid who needs an adult – an adult who's willing to leave his own baggage at the door."

--

They inched up the stairs, Lindsay in the lead, gun poised next to her right cheek, Danny only a hair's breadth behind her. At the top step, she flattened against the wall then peered out into the room beyond and behind her. Nodding her head to indicate beyond her, Danny crossed to the other side of the stairwell and flattened against the wall. She gave him the okay sign.

"Jamal, it's Danny, can you hear me?" They heard scrambling then silence. "Jamal, I'm here to talk to you about your Granny and Jawan … how you took care of them last night … how you protected them." More silence. Impatient, Danny shifted closer to the edge of the opening of the stairwell. Unwilling to loosen her hold on the gun, she reached out and tapped the toe of her boot on his knee and shook her head at him. He clenched his fists and leaned his head back against the wall. "Jamal, just answer if you can hear me, please? I'm worried about you."

"I'm here."

"Thank goodness. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but I'm hungry."

A grin split Danny's face. "I hear you, buddy and I can get you something to eat just as soon as you do one thing for me."

"What?"

"I need your gun."

"It ain't my gun."

"Okay, okay I get it. But do you still have it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then slide it over here to the stairs where I can reach out and get it. Can you do that for me?"

"Whaddya want with the gun?"

"You remember Lindsay?"

"The chick who came to the baseball game?"

"That's the one."

"Yeah, I remember her."

"She's a detective … like me … and that gun is needed to solve two other cases."

"You mean …"

"I mean that you could really help her out."

"What … what about what happened last night?"

"We know how it played out; your Granny told us. She's real proud of you, by the way, how you protected her and Jawan. She wants you to come back home."

"I don't know if I can do that … you know since I …"

"Hey don't you worry about that; we'll get this cleared up so you can get back home. But first we need the gun."

--

He hated being here, sitting on the bench, while she was over there, discussing Jamal's case with the detective in the 45th who was the lead on the case. He knew she'd handle it exactly how it should be handled – that she'd do right by Jamal but it was a hellish ache to realize that one of Jamal's toughest moments was at hand and his own involvement in the matter was over.

"Coach?"

He turned towards Jamal whose shoulders were hunched, his hands gripping the edge of the bench. "Yeah?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lindsay and the detective approaching.

"Will you go in with me?"

His eyes burned. "I wished I could but … only the detectives … and I'm-"

"That's okay, Coach. I understand."

He cuffed the back of Jamal's neck. "Just tell the truth and you'll be okay."

Lindsay and the detective now stood in front of Jamal. "Jamal, this is Detective Keeler. He's going to take your statement about the shooting. Since my cases are connected to the gun, I'll be in there as well." She laid a hand on his shoulder, "Are you ready?" then dropped it as he stood and followed Detective Keeler.

Danny stood as well watching him go, realizing his own life would likely return to normal tomorrow. How much would Jamal have to go through before his life would return to normal?

"Linds, um … you'll watch out for him in there."

"Don't worry, I've got his back."

"Thanks"

--

"You need anything, Jamal?" Lindsay asked as she settled herself at the table across from Jamal and next to Detective Keeler.

Jamal shook his head. "I just wanna tell my story and get outta here."

"Okay whenever you're ready," said Detective Keeler.

Hunching forward Jamal stared at his hands resting on the table. "I was real mad at my Granny last night 'cause she wouldn't let me go to Dooley's, you know, on account of it being Sunday the next day so … after she fell asleep I snuck out."

"About what time was that?"

"Around 11:00."

"And how long were you there?"

"Couple hours I guess then I headed home. When I snuck back in, I heard voices downstairs. One of 'em was my Granny and the other was Michael."

"Your father?" Detective Keeler asked.

Jamal raised hard eyes to Detective Keeler, "Yeah, but I didn't have no cause to call him that," then dropped his gaze again. "Anyway I can hear it's getting ugly and knowing what I know about how he threatened her at the ball park couple weeks ago-"

Lindsay leaned forward. "How do you know about that Jamal?"

"I overheard her telling my Aunt Reesie one day."

"Okay."

"Anyways I get the gun from its hiding place and creep downstairs. I see he's got her pinned against the refrigerator and he starting to yell, I mean really yell, call her bitch, tell her she ain't been no kind of mama to him. I … I walked as softly as I could until I was right behind him then I held the gun to the back of his head and told him to let Granny go …"

"What happen next, Jamal?" Detective Keeler prompted.

"At first he laughed and it made me mad so I cocked the gun and then he … he … he start yelling at me, over his shoulder, calling me names, telling me I ain't never been no kind of son to him. But I remember what Coach, I mean Danny, tell me about letting it go and I try to let it go but …" Jamal's hands clenched as his voice faded.

Lindsay encouraged softly, "I know this is emotional. Take your time"

At that Jamal turned hard eyes on her. "It ain't no thing." But then his eyes went back to his hands as he continued. "I tell him then we're even 'cause he ain't never been no kind of father to me and I don't' give a shit about him." Then the words began to jumble and tumble off his tongue. "And … and I guess that made him crazy mad 'cause he turned on me so quick, I didn't even realize it was happening until it happened and the gun went off. He fell into me and the whole thing freaked me out so bad I pushed him off me … and … and then I ran."

"Why did you run, Jamal?"

"I ran … I ran 'cause I knew my Granny would be mad at me, you know for shooting him. I mean … 'cause he her son and all."

--

Danny hopped up off the bench as Lindsay approached him.

"How'd he do?"

"He did great, Danny. He's writing out his statement right now."

"How do you think they'll go on him?"

"I'm no DA, but it looks promising especially once we throw in his cooperation on the gun issue."

"So he coughed up where he got the gun?"

"No, not yet. We figured we'd let him have some time to calm down before we tackle that issue."

"You ready, Detective Monroe?" Detective Keeler said as he passed by with a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

--

Another round in the interrogation room without him being able to be in there or at least observe through the two-way glass; it had to be one of the craziest, most frustrating out of control and helpless feelings he'd ever had in his life. His knee bounced as he sat, then his knuckles popped as he cracked them one by one, over and over again until a weary sergeant gave him a look then he stood and his pacing began. On the round with his back to the interrogation room, he heard her step behind him and he whirled around.

"Finally, what the hell took so long?"

"We hit a snag."

"What kind of snag?"

Detective Keeler handed Lindsay a folder. "Here you go Detective Monroe, you left this behind."

"Um, thanks."

"We'll call you if anything changes."

She nodded to Detective Keeler. Danny waited until he was out of ear shot and said, "Now what's the snag?"

She sighed. "Let's talk about it on the way back." Her shoulders sagged as she stuck the file folder under her arm and grabbed her bag from the bench. As she turned toward the door, he realized how exhausted she must be – twenty-four straight hours on duty – the last twelve voluntarily – for him.

He slid his hand into hers as he caught up with her, walking ahead of her, pulling her along until they reached the curb. "Taxi!"

She tugged on his hand. "It's so expensive."

"You let me worry about that," he said as ushered her into the taxi, settling in beside her. "Besides it's one just way I can thank you for all you've done today."

"You don't have to thank me. After all … you'd do the same for me … have done the same for me ... and it's really all in a day's work, don't you agree?"

He shifted into the corner of the seat, wrapping his arms around her, settling her against his chest then planted a kiss atop her head. "Montana, just shut up and let me thank you."

"Okay …" she murmured as exhaustion gained the upper hand and her eyelids drooped once, twice then finally for the time.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I can't believe we're almost there!!**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 31**

Twelve hours and counting, and still she slept. And every hour she slept, he watched and the more he watched, the more he realized – realized how much she'd given him, helped him, loved him, despite how much he'd taken from her and taken her for granted, and now, how much he owed her but most of all how much he loved her.

He crouched next to the bed, gently brushing the hair from her face as he said, "Montana"

She stirred, her eyes fluttered open, velvety eyes that finally focused on him. "You were here all night?"

"Yeah, on the couch."

"The couch? Why?" Her brow bunched. "Did you sleep?"

"Enough."

She wrapped her hand around his, pressing a kiss to his palm. "You didn't have to sleep on the couch." He ducked his head as she slid her hand along his arm and curled it around the back of his neck pulling him closer.

"You needed your sleep," he said.

"Yeah well, now I need something else," she murmured as her lips brushed across his. His fingers twined into her hair as the kiss deepened. She slid her hands down his chest across his abs to either side of his waist. Hooking her fingers into his belt loops, she tugged, urging him onto the bed next to her, but he wouldn't budge.

"Linds, I don't …" he protested, although his breathing told a different story.

She pulled her hands away from him. "You don't want-"

He grabbed them and held them to his chest. "No, no, no, wrong choice of words. I can't … I've … I've got this meeting at 10 and-"

She sat up. "Oh Danny, I'm so sorry, I forgot I was just thinking of myself." She made a move to get out of the bed, "I'll make some coffee."

He stalled her. "Linds, it's okay." Putting his forehead to hers, "Trust me, if it we weren't so short on time, I'd-"

"There's time."

"Yeah, but not for how I want to …" And he put his lips close to her ear, whispering. And it tickled and it tantalized her until she could barely breathe. And then he left her with a promise and an anticipation for later and an "I love you" for now.

--

"Danny, Mac sent … sent me down to escort you up."

"Hey, Adam." Danny slapped Adam's back enthusiastically and Adam flinched. "Sorry man." He held out hand to make amends. "How ya been?"

A smile started to creep across Adam's face as he spoke. "Good. Everyone's looking forward to you coming back."

They walked to the elevators and Danny jabbed the button, "Well it's gonna be good to be back."

"So, you think things are gonna work out?"

Danny looked at Adam as they stepped into the elevator, realizing he hadn't approached this meeting as one with a questionable outcome. He shrugged and started thinking as his reflection came together in the closing elevator doors.

--

"Danny, come in." Mac said as he came around the desk to shake Danny's hand. "Ty and I were just discussing your case."

_Shit Ty got the jump on me. This can't be good._

Ty, who rose only briefly to shake Danny's hand, said nothing, merely nodded at him. Not surprised at Ty's behavior but rather interpreting it as ominous, Danny quickly dropped into the chair beside him.

Mac seated himself at his desk then waved a hand at Ty. "You want to start or should I?"

Ty shook his head. "No, I already told you what I think; this is your deal now." He crossed an ankle over knee and shifted further back in his chair as if now disengaged from the process or … uncaring about the outcome.

_Typical Ty. The man was completely unreadable. _

Mac reached into a drawer and pulled out a file – the very thick file that Ty had pulled out of his drawer during their first session together. Unlike Ty however, Mac didn't throw it to the desk but set it down carefully, tapping a finger on it as he said, "Danny there's a lot of stuff in this file … a lot of stuff." He sighed, steepling his fingers together as he too leaned back in his chair. The creak reverberated around the room and across Danny's nerves, causing him to rub his palms up and down his thighs a few times as Mac continued. "But … with what Ty's been telling me about all you've been doing with the Community Center and the baseball team in The Bronx, and how you've been hitting your issues head on in the sessions, well …"

Danny's body began to lighten and float.

"I'm ready to reinstate you per the terms of our agreement."

And his tongue loosened. "Mac, that is great news, I promise I won't let you down again, I've …" He looked Ty briefly. "Really been working on trying to think before acting."

Mac pulled a document from the file, pushed it and a pen toward the edge of the desk. "Then look that over carefully and sign at the bottom."

Danny scanned it quickly, signed it with a flourish and handed it back to Mac eager to return it to him before something went deadly wrong and the offer was rescinded. Mac placed it in the folder, put the folder into the drawer and pulled out Danny's badge and gun, reaching across the desk to set them in front of Danny.

"I believe these are yours, Detective Messer."

"Yeah, thanks Mac." He clipped on his badge and palmed his gun. "When do you want me back on shift?"

"Right now if possible."

"Possible? You couldn't send me home now if you tried."

Mac laughed. "Just what I want to hear. You can check in the lab to see what needs to be done."

"Um … Mac?"

Mac quirked an eyebrow.

"Um … I'm not trying … well I know it's my first day back and all … but … there's some unfinished business … of course if it's okay with you, that is-"

"Danny, you're starting to sound like Adam."

"Okay, okay, here's the deal. Lindsay hit a snag yesterday with a suspect instrumental in solving two open murder cases; one of them is a case I worked about six weeks ago and the other is her's from about a month ago, so … anyway … I want to talk to the suspect to see if I can put this one to bed, you know kill two birds with one stone."

Mac took a file out of his inbox. "Would this be the case involving the boy, Jamal Wilkinson?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's him, how did you know?"

Mac ignored Danny's question and passed the file to Ty. "I don't know. Ty what do you think?"

_Shit!_

Ty opened it and took what seemed liked to Danny a purposely longer than necessary amount of time to read it then closed it, handing it back to Mac, he spoke his pronouncement. "Jamal's an athletic kid – has a real talent for pitching. Pitched his team into a win the first time out and the second time he showed some real gumption in sticking it through a stinker of a game."

Danny stared at Ty. "Was that in the file?"

"Nah, I've seen the kid play."

"You mean you were checking up on me."

Ty shrugged, "What? I like baseball."

_The man's been watching me? Shit! What else has he seen?_

"So?" Mac prompted.

_Yeah, so?_

"So I think if anyone could connect with this boy, it'd be Danny. He's built a solid relationship with him and given how Danny handled himself yesterday I'd say he can handle it today without going off the deep end."

Danny scrubbed the back of head. "Don't tell me you were checking up on me yesterday too."

"Nah, that was in the file."

"What?"

"Detective Monroe faxed an update to me yesterday from the 45th. Apparently you were instrumental in finding and bringing in the boy without further incident," Mac said.

_Man, Montana really does go by the book._

Mac stood. "Well Detective Messer the shift's already been on a couple of hours so if you plan on wrapping these two cases up by the end of shift-"

Danny held his hands up as he stood. "Say no more Mac, I'm on my way to the 45th."

"Detective Messer" Ty stood, holding out his hand. "Congratulations, you worked hard for this."

Suddenly that light and floating feeling was back but his tongue stiffened, making the words, "Thank you" nearly impossible to pronounce as he shook Ty's hand.

--

"Coach!"

They slapped hands together, hugged tight then backed away from each other. Danny gestured to a chair.

"They treatin' okay?"

"Yeah it ain't bad." Slumping back in the chair looping one arm over the back, Jamal gestured at Danny's badge. "I see you a detective again."

Danny looked down at his waist as he took the seat across the table from Jamal. "Yeah, yeah, sometimes it all pays off."

"So you here as a detective?"

"Among other things."

Jamal looked at the table.

Danny shifted forward. "I hear you won't cough up a name for Detective Monroe."

Hard eyes challenged Danny. "So you think I'm gonna cough one up for you."

"I dunno. This doesn't seem like you, Jamal. You seemed ready to help yesterday-"

"I did help. I gave up the gun, like you say too. You ain't say nothing about giving up a name. And I ain't no snitch!"

"You're right; I never said anything about giving up a name." Danny pressed fingertips against eyes and sighed. "You got me, Jamal; you've beaten me on a technicality." He dropped his hands lacing them together on the table. "You should be a lawyer, you know that? In fact you could be a lawyer."

"You playin' me?"

"I ain't playin' you. You're smart, you're athletic and most of all you got a family that cares … there's just one thing holding you back"

"One?" Jamal began ticking off fingers. "Shit there be a million things … I black, I live in The Bronx, I poor-"

Danny ticked fingers back at him. "And I'm Italian, grew up poor _and_ on Staten Island, lost my baseball career in a fuckin' stupid bar fight, been hauled before IAB twice, and just made it back from suspension so don't give me that disadvantaged, inner city youth crap."

Hard eyes stared at Danny as Jamal tipped his chair as far back as it would go, then he said, "Okay … so what be my one thing?"

"Actually, I lied, it's three … Three Murder Raps."

The chair hit the floor; Jamal sprang up, hands slamming down on the table. "Three? What the? Fuck you. You fuckin' liar. That ain't what you told me. You told me we'd work this out-"

Danny jabbed his finger at Jamal. "Exactly Jamal – We." Then jabbed it on the table. "Where is 'the we'?"

Jamal whirled around and kicked the chair. "I just cain't be a snitch … c'mon … you know what it be like on my streets."

Danny rounded the table. "Yeah, I understand that things may get tough for you, but don't let those streets play you, don't let 'em rule you 'cause if you do that's all you'll ever be is someone from the streets."

"And are ya gonna be there for me when things get tough? Huh? Are ya? If Granny make a call to the police 'cause someone threaten her or beat up Jawan 'cause of a name I drop here today, are you gonna be comin' out to track that mother fucker down?"

"You know I'll support you in any way that I can but-"

"Yo I get you. Ya got your life back, soon things be to busy for you to care about what happens on the streets in my 'hood." Jamal turned and walked to the door; slapping the window as he shouted, "Yo, come get me outta here."

"Jamal, let me tell you something. You're gonna be fightin' the streets whether you give me a name or not." Danny walked across the room and stood next to Jamal. "Might as well make it a fight for something rather than nothing."

The door opened and the guard motioned Jamal through. Jamal held up his hand, the guard waited for a moment then Jamal said, "I ain't ready yet." The guard nodded and closed the door. Still staring at the glass, Jamal said, "Will-bo Squibbs"

"Squibbs? As in Denton Squibbs?"

"Yeah"

"Fuck, I'm sorry … I had no-"

"It ain't no thing." Jamal heaved a sigh. "Denton and Will-bo – they be brothers. Will-bo older than Denton, and he run guns. Denton dared me to get the gun from his brother when I told him about what happened to my Granny at the ballpark with my- … I mean, with Michael." He crammed his hands in his pockets, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders. "I never meant to shoot it, just use it to scare him off."

Danny squeezed Jamal's shoulder. "You done good, Jamal. I'll make sure the Juvenile Court judge knows about your part in clearing up three murders."

Jamal nodded and tapped on the glass. The door opened and the guard motioned him through.

"Jamal"

He paused, hands grasping the doors jambs on either side, but he didn't look at Danny.

"You may not believe me but … playin' ball, hangin' out, hauling trash – for free …" Jamal swiped a hand across his mouth at that. "Well it taught me a lot about myself, about what's important in life and …" He inhaled deep then exhaled. "And no matter what you may think of me … I'm glad I got to know you but … but most of all, I'm proud of you."

Jamal scrubbed at his eyes, "Thanks, Coach," and walked out.

--

"Danny, what are you doing here?"

"Covering your back, Montana." He handed her the file.

"You got Jamal to talk?" She flipped it open. "I don't know what to say."

"How about thank you, Detective Messer?"

"Thank you, Detective Messer." Her teeth flashed as she closed the file and stepped closer to him. "And Detective Messer …"

"Yes, Detective Monroe?"

"Welcome back." A discreet hand drifted across his waist as she whispered, "I've missed you," then walked to an empty desk to file her report.

"I've missed you too," he said as his eyes, then his feet followed her across the room.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Well we're not at the end yet but unless the characters do something unplanned, it should be two more chapters after this and maybe a epilogue. Thanks for reading!!**

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 32**

"Willie Bowen Squibbs." Danny perched on the edge of the table, flipping through a file. "Quite a sheet you've got here."

Willie draped one arm over the back of the chair, stretching the other across the table, casually drumming his fingers. "It all be … what you call it? Oh yeah, hearsay."

Danny closed the file. "Hearsay huh? Well I've got some real reliable hearsay about a gun that killed three people."

"I sure I ain't know nothin' 'bout that."

Danny stood up and ambled around the table "I feel sure you do know something about that." Putting his mouth close to the Willie's ear he said, "Will-bo."

Willie, crossing his arms and slouching low in his chair, remained verbally unresponsive. Danny moved behind him, gripping the back of the chair. "Three separate and unrelated people finger you as the guy with the gun."

"Maybe they do. But … ain't no gun, ain't no link to me."

"I admit ya got us by the balls there, Will-bo. But …" Danny caught Willie's eyes in the reflection of the two way glass and stared. "Maybe those three other people are in rooms just like this one, spilling their guts to cops just like me 'cause they don't have the smarts and the fortitude you do." Danny leaned in close to Willie's other ear. "Will-bo"

Willie jerked away from Danny. "What the fuck? Man, get away from my fucking ear. Are you some kind of mother fucking fag cop?"

Danny ambled around the other side of the table, closing the circle at the point where he'd perched at the outset. This time he knuckled the table as he hawked his face close to Willie's. "Yeah, lots of smarts and fortitude … keep you alive for a good ten to twenty years in the hole against those-"

"Go fuck yourself. I ain't saying a word."

"You don't have to say a word, Will-bo, because those three other people are doing it for you. You know why? 'Cause they know they wouldn't last a month in prison – those uptown, better-than-your-sorry-ass white folk." Danny pushed off the table. "And once the DA hears what they have to say, he won't be interested in hearing anymore." Crossing his arms, he finished, "How's that for hearsay?"

Willie gave a tight jerk upwards with his head. "Shit, I know at least one of 'em ain't white but since you ain't got a gun, it all be hearsay just like I say."

Danny waved a hand in the air, the door opened and Lindsay walked in. Placing the bagged and tagged gun on the table she said, "Detective Messer doesn't deal in hearsay."

--

"Can you believe we tossed two viable murder cases to the DA today?" Danny said after he'd swallowed his last mouthful of pizza. "The wife for the murder of Brant Cominskey and the boyfriend for the murder of Cilla Rasmussin. And then making Willie Bowen 'Will-bo' Squibbs for possession and dealing of illegal fire arms plus three counts of accessory to murder."

"That's quite a day and I'm especially impressed with that interrogation tactic you used on Will-bo." Lindsay wiped her fingers on a napkin, crumpled it and threw it to the coffee table then settled back into the couch next to him. "Distracting him with all that talk about the shooters flipping just to snag him on our possession of the gun."

Danny raised his arms into the air, heaved a dramatic sigh and dropped them along the back of the couch. "All on my first day back." He curled an arm around her shoulders and smirked. "Just wait until you see what I have in store for my second day, Detective Monroe."

She flashed him a toothy smile. "I don't think your head could get any bigger, Detective Messer." She laced her fingers through his and pulled his arm closer around her. "Now tell me how you convinced Jamal to talk. He was the key to all this."

Danny's expression suddenly grew somber. Disentangling his hand from hers he stood and crossed the room to look out the window. From the reflection in the window, she could see the city lights playing in his glasses, hiding his expression from her as she followed him across the room.

"Danny I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to treat that matter lightly." Curling her hands around his biceps, she leaned her cheek against his back listening to his breath whoosh through his lungs When his chest began to vibrate with the sound of his voice, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I don't know quite how I did it, Linds. I mean that's the funny thing about it." He clasped her hands, pulling her around to face him. "The last thing I remember before I went in to talk to Jamal was that remark you made about leaving my baggage at the door. And I guess something in me took over, you know, did the right thing as far as the case was concerned."

"Does that mean you don't think you did the right thing as far as Jamal was concerned?"

She could feel the disturbance in his emotions through his grip on her upper arms. "I wanna believe I did. But what if he or someone in his family winds up hurt or worse, dead, because I convinced him to rat out Will-bo Squibbs?" He released her arms to run both hands through his hair, lacing his hands behind his head, squeezing his arms tight against his head. "I mean being a snitch in a neighborhood like that … that's … that's almost a death sentence."

She reached for him. "Danny, I think-" But without warning he dropped his arms, turned and stalked to the door, grabbing his keys off the end table as he passed it. "I gotta get outta here."

She ran after inserting herself between him and the door. "Stay … please. I'm sorry I shouldn't have brought it up but can't we at least talk it through?"

"I don't need to talk, Linds. I need to move."

"Okay, we don't talk …" She slid her palms up his chest and around his neck; letting her kiss against his lips imply her solution.

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. "That isn't the right reason to-"

"Why isn't it the right reason?" She jerked her hands away. "There was a time when you thought it was right reason."

"What are you say-"

"Or maybe I'm just the wrong person?"

He stepped back, shaking his head. "I can't believe you just said … that you just implied … after all …" He turned away from her, planting his hands on his hips, muttering, "after all … after all … after all …"

As his voice died away and his hands dropped limply to his sides, her hurt at his rejection receded and her eyes filled with tears. And then the words came out of their mouths concurrently and in sync, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," as he turned and wrapped her in his arms. She lifted her face meeting his lips in urgent apology and need until he held her face between his hands and said, "There hasn't been a time since I've met you that you haven't been the right person, just times that my stupidity and fear of what we have together convinced me otherwise,"

"Danny, no, no, it's me … as much me as you, I'm trying to be there for you but my issues still get in the way … I … I don't want to have doubts, but sometimes-"

"It's okay. It's okay," he said as he brushed away the last of her tears with his thumbs.

She gave a tiny sniffle as her lips curved into a soft smile. "Yeah, as long as we kiss and makeup it's okay."

His hands dropped from her face to her shoulders. "Don't even joke about something like that."

"But I'm not joking. Haven't I been plain enough from this morning onwards that I want to-"

"Yeah, you have but …"

"But what?"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're ready for that and not just thinkin' you should be ready-"

"What are you saying, Danny?"

"All I'm saying is that I want you to be sure because …" He dropped his hands and took a step backwards gesturing with his hands. "Because once we go there, there'll be no turning back for me."

She took a step forwards, tracing her finger along his jaw line, "I," then across his bottom lip, "want," down his chin, "to make love," and caressed his lips with her own, "with you."

She'd no more than said it than he had slid an arm under her knees and hoisted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She wound her arms around his neck and in three strides he was at her bedroom door nudging it open with a hip then closing it with a heel.

And then they were on the bed and their clothes were on the floor, his hands and lips traveling instinctively to those places on her body which he knew would be aroused and heated, places which he thought he might never touch again. And she responded in the arch of her body and moan in the back of her throat exactly as remembered and he didn't want to wait.

"Montana?"

Her eyes drowsed only partway open and her lips parted only slightly on the word, "What?" but her hands never ceased their motion across his body, fanning the need in him almost beyond his nobler intentions.

"It has to all the way for me this time. It feels just too damn …"

"Good?" She hitched her legs around his waist and arched up into him. "I know." Then she palmed the back of his head, pulling him closer, breathing into his ear, "There's no turning back for me either."

And in one thrust he was inside her, she matching him thrust for thrust, moan for moan, time apart doing nothing to erase the perfection of their fit together, only intensifying their release when they came, one soon after the other.

--

The phone rang and he groaned. "I know it's only my second day but does it have to start so damn early?"

"Don't worry, it's mine." She grabbed the cell phone off the nightstand and snuggled back into his arms as she answered, "Monroe."

She propped onto an elbow. "Oh hey, Rand."

"No, I'm not on until later."

"I completely dropped the ball on that. The past few days have been more than a little intense but ... can you give me until the end of the day?"

"Sure, I promise, I'll have an answer for you then." She felt Danny's arm tightened around her waist.

"Okay, you too. Bye."

She dropped the phone to the bed and turned over in his arms. His eyes were closed but he wasn't asleep she knew that. She palmed his cheek, loving the bristly feel against her hand, brushing a thumb over his lips, then replacing it with her lips. In one swift movement he rolled her, pinning her beneath him, his hands holding hers above her head. He brushed his bristly jaw down one cheek it tickled, across her chest, it prickled and then back up the other cheek and it burned.

"Ouch!" she said only half in jest. "You're giving me burn marks."

His eyes burned. "That's so he'll know."

Her brow bunched. "Who? Know what?"

"Rand. Know that you belong to me."

"What?"

"When you go to work for him."

"Danny, I don't even know if I'm going to work-"

He propped onto his elbows releasing her hands, "You will, I know you will," winding his hands tightly into her hair, tilting her head back, exposing the soft skin of her neck to his lips. But his kisses were tender not branding like she'd thought they'd be given his previous comments. And she tried to make a joke, "What? No marks there?" but it only betrayed the emotion swelling inside her so she opted for serious instead.

"You're right. I want this job. Maybe I knew it when he told me about it, or maybe I only knew it just now, but … but I have the chance to move on in my career." She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her, "But I promise you, I'm not moving on from you."

He rolled off her and onto his back. She leaned across his chest, propping her chin on her fist.

His hand stroked through her hair. "Linds, I'd never hold you back from what you really want to do. If this is what you really want to do then … go for it."

She scooted up closer and kissed him on the cheek, "That means everything to me, Danny."

His hand traveled downward, snaking around her hip. "Well, I guess since I'm not going to be seeing you on the job ..." His hand slid between her legs. "Then I better get my fill of you here, Montana."

"Oh" Her eyes closed in pleasurable concentration. "I'm ... counting on ... that ... Detective Messer."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: The characters haven't done anything unexpected yet ... so ... **

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 33**

"I tell you them young'uns shore do like it when he come around." Silas gestured toward the cluster of kids surrounding Danny, plying him with a million questions as they maneuvered him towards the new ball field.

Ms. Roselma humphed, "That's 'cause he act like little more than a kid hisself."

Silas reached for Ms. Roselma's hand but kept his eyes on the traveling cluster as he said, "Yeah, but he step up when it counts."

"Uh huh, he do." Ms. Roselma replied her characteristic humph absent as her glossy corn rows bobbed in agreement.

Lindsay deciding to leave the pair to their private moment said, "I think I'll take a closer look at what's going on out there."

This time Ms. Roselma humphed, "I'm sure that young man of yours takes a lot of keepin' an eye on."

Lindsay laughed, "Yeah, he does but …" And as she watched the cluster disappear around the corner of the community center she murmured, "It keeps it interesting."

"That's the only way to have it …" Silas said flashing his pearly whites at the narrowing of Ms. Roselma's almond shaped eyes. "Interesting … that is."

--

Danny held up his hands, "Okay, okay, everybody take your positions and we'll see if Jamal can get one by me." As Jamal backed up to the pitcher's mound, Danny shuffled his palms back and forth. "My money says he can't." He grabbed the bat, sliced it through the air a couple of times then stanced. Jamal slugged the ball into his glove a couple of times before winding up and letting it fly. A smidge to the left of home plate and the catcher called it wide. Danny tapped home plate saying, "Good speed, but I need it right here." He stanced again. Jamal swiped the back of his forearm across his brow before letting another one fly, this time, bat level across the plate. A cracking connect and the ball sailed high over the community center towards the vacant back lot rampant with debris and knee high weeds. The entire outfield rambunctiously followed after it.

Jamal, remaining behind, adjusted his cap. "Yo, ya still got it," He gestured wide. "Might as well run 'em."

Danny grinning, let the bat drop then jogged towards first, as Jamal walked towards home plate scooping up another ball on his way. As Danny rounded second he could hear the chatter of the outfield as they searched for the ball. As he closed in on third he waved at Lindsay, sitting in the bleachers. On the approach to home plate he heard Jamal shout, "C'mon Denton, let it go," then watched Jamal duck a punch and sidestep Denton. Danny stopped within a foot of the two boys but kept quiet. He almost didn't recognize Denton who was now sporting a slouch that only added to his wideness and did nothing for his tallness.

Jamal ferociously slugged the ball into his glove as Denton stepped in close to him again. "You all talk, ain't you Jamal?" Then Denton noticing Danny jerked his chin towards Danny but continued to stare at Jamal, tossing out the words, "It be because you his snitch bitch." Denton body pressed into Jamal. "Ain't that right, Jamal?"

Danny retrieving the bat from the ground flipped it once in his palm and presented it, hilt end, to Denton. "C'mon Denton, how about we all blow off some steam over a few swings?"

Eyeing Danny, Denton retreated a step then crammed his hands into his pockets, slouching deeper. "Yo, if I take that bat, there be only one thing I be swingin'at …" then he looked at Jamal as he bobbed his head back and forth in time with his words, "and- it- ain't- gonna- be- a- ball- ... snitch." Then he turned, slamming his hand against the chain link fence as he left the ball field and entered the street.

Danny flipped the bat back to hilt end, gripped it with both hands and took a few practice swings as he said, "You handled that real well, Jamal."

Jamal lessened the ferocity of the slugging of the ball into his glove as he watched Denton fade into the distance. "He ain't never gonna let it go, is he?"

Danny stopped swinging and rested the bat against his shoulder. "Nah, probably not."

"What I gonna do?"

"You're doing it."

"I know but it be tough when he come at me again and again."

"Most times all you have Jamal is to change how you react to the situation because the situation is beyond your control."

"I know but I feel bad for what I did to him."

"Jamal, we all do things we feel bad about. But …" Danny shrugged, twisting the end of the bat in the dirt.

"But what?"

Danny took one last ferocious slice through the air. "But we make amends the best we can and hope that the other person comes around." Then he walked to the chain link fence behind home plate and leaned the bat against it. "Ya hungry?"

"Yeah"

"Yeah, me too. Go round up the others and check up on those ribs that Silas is cooking. I'll catch up with you."

"Okay, Coach."

Removing the glove, Jamal tucked it under his arm and jogged towards the community center. Watching until Jamal reached it Danny then turned, walked beyond the chain link fence to the bleachers and held out his hand. Lindsay took it, stepping over bleachers until she was on the ground beside him.

She tugged on his hand as they began walking. "You worried about him?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't but …" He worried a hand along his jaw.

"But anything else is beyond your control, right?"

"Yeah." He wrapped an arm around her waist, cinching her close to him as they continued to walk. "Unfortunately it is."

--

They stood at the entrance to his apartment building, the dim light barely repressing the darkness beyond them.

"Sure you don't want to at least wait in the foyer?"

"No, I 'm fine here."

"Linds …" A swatch of hair fell across her face, both their hands reached for it, touching then dropping, the swatch left awry. He ducked his head, "Okay, I'll be right down," then disappeared into the building.

She moved into the shadows, leaning back against the brick wall, watching people pass; people unaware of her presence; people who didn't even know her; people who certainly didn't care for her. She turned shouldering the wall, watching the door, watching for him to come back through it. Him. He cared. He certainly shown again and again that he cared. And his words, _'But we make amends the best we can and hope that the other person comes around.'_ had echoed in her head and beat in her heart all day. All day with him, watching him with the boys, Jamal in particular, with Silas and Ms. Roselma and all the other neighborhood folks who'd come around for the Grand Opening of the community center. And then more words chorused with those as she turned to the door and opened it …'_ let it go'_ … walked through it … _'some things are beyond your control'_ … climbed the stairs to his floor … _'all you can do is'_ …and walked down the hallway … _'change how you react to it.'_ And she stood in his open doorway. _'But we make amends the best we can and hope that the other person comes around.'_

Then she took a step inside, pausing, looking around at all things familiar and known to her, all the memories harbored there: reclining on the couch, with him, on those rare days off together. Another step: eating and drinking at the counter, with him, at the end of a long shift. One more step: standing in the middle of the kitchen, with him, arms wrapped around each other, dazzling morning sun spilling over them. And another step: lying in bed, with him … She heard a bag zip then he stepped into the doorway of the bedroom.

--

He paused when he saw her standing in the middle of his apartment; was surprised to see her standing in the middle of his apartment; was elated to see her standing in the middle of his apartment but was at a loss as what to say or do with her standing in the middle of his apartment.

--

And there he was; the one who was most familiar and known to her; the one who held the most memories for her – both bad and good – but mostly, they were good memories. And she took another step as she said, "I've been thinking … you know it's silly to go back to my place tonight … it's, it's been a full day and it's late … I mean, you have the early shift in the morning-"

"Linds, it's not a big deal, really." He held up the bag. "Look I'm all ready to go." And he took a step toward her, saying softly. "C'mon." She palmed his chest, halting him.

"It is a big deal."

He set the bag on the counter beside them. "Linds, I don't ever expect you to-"

She took the last step to him and laid a finger against his lips. "Shh … listen. Everything you said to Jamal today … I know you must have said to yourself … hundreds of times … and … and … actually they're things you could say to me as well because I'm not-"

He cupped her face, his lips moving against her finger as he spoke, "But Lindsay, I fucked up … fucked up real bad."

"I know you did, I know you did … but, but, but you've worked so hard and it shows, and especially after seeing you today … I'm, I'm just ready to put it all behind us." She cupped her hands over his. "Okay?"

"Oh god, yeah, yeah, yeah it's more than okay. It's exactly what I want ..." He leaned his forehead against hers. "So whaddya-"

Whispering, "It's late … I want to go to bed," she palmed his chest, pressing until he took a step backwards.

He let his hands drop into their natural position at her waist. "You're right it's late; you must be tired."

She pressed until he took another step backwards. "It is late." She brushed her lips against his. "But I'm not tired."

He suddenly cinched her to him and his words vibrated deep within her. "I gotta warn you, we'll be up all night."

Pressing again, forcing another step backwards, she smiled, tilting her head. "I'm not the one with the early shift."

The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, "I may have to call in sick," he grinned as he toppled backwards, taking her with him.

--

Hours later, she awoke, not quite sure why but needing to quench her thirst, she slid off the bed as quietly as possible then stood for a moment watching him sleep. Aching to touch him but reluctant to wake him, she left him realizing as she walked into the kitchen that more memories had been made tonight, more good ones, helping to overwhelm and fade the bad ones.

She opened a kitchen cupboard and stretched up on tiptoes to reach a glass. Not quite able to reach it and somewhat mentally cursing him for being taller then herself she gave a little hop to grab the glass, knocking a stack of papers to the floor as she came down. Setting the glass on the counter, she crouched, stacking the papers and replacing them on the counter, her eyes and hand suddenly lingering on the card at the top of the stack. She picked it up and held it closer to her eyes. Startled as arms slid around her waist from behind, she stammered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop. The papers, I knocked them off …"

He rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear. "Montana, what are worried about? They're just papers."

"It's, it's …" She turned in his arms, he dropped them as she handed him the card and she leaned back against the counter, her hands wringing and writhing.

He passed a hand over his eyes then laid the card on the counter behind her. "The card from Ruben's Memorial Service; I had forgotten that I still had it."

"Danny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."

He wrapped her in his arms, his chin resting atop her head. "Hey, hey, it's not your fault. After all it's, it's … all in the past."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

She felt his sigh deepen and release and she asked. "But there's something else, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is." Dropping his arms and turning away from her, he knuckled the counter. "I need, I mean Ty recommended …" He shifted his weight, dropping his head between his shoulders.

She stepped up behind, drifting her hand up his back, sliding her fingers up the back of his scalp. "You can tell me, whatever it is you can tell me."

He grabbed her hand from the back of his head, turning suddenly to face her. "Linds, it's something I know I need to do, but, but, I don't want to do it at the risk of hurting us."

She palmed his cheek. "Then you have to do it and trust that I'll be okay with it."

"Even if it means seeing Rikki again?"


	35. Chapter 35

**Key West Blues**

**Chapter 34**

The moment he mentioned her name, her hands dropped and her feet backtracked until she hit the counter behind, and everything that was good and reassuring faded as the blackness passed over her eyes, weighted her limbs, settled in her heart. And she tried to fight it, to meet it head on, to be strong for him but she slid downwards.

--

Since the words left his mouth before he'd even thought them, he had little idea what to say or do as he watched her move away – move away as she'd done so many times before, so many times now that he couldn't even recall them all, but yet he knew them all. And as she slid downwards, his reactions kicked in and he caught her before she hit the floor, and he settled her into a sitting position, kneeling beside her, hand on her shoulder as her head dropped between her knees.

"Lindsay, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blurted it out like. I should have thought before I said it."

--

Closing her eyes, head lolling back against the cabinet, she reached for his hand. "No, no, no, on some level I knew it was coming." She fought the quelling inside her. "And, and, I understand it. You have to see her again to make … make sure that, that she's okay and … that, that, that it's over."

He squeezed her hand, pulling it to his chest. "It is over Lindsay, I promise you it's over."

"I want to believe that."

"Then why don't you? I'm mean after all I've done, after all I've said, how we've made it through the past few days – together – after what you said to me tonight?"

She opened her eyes and straightened, pulling her hand from his, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Because when I first found out about Rikki and I asked you point blank if you had feelings for her, you said yes."

"Lindsay, I was so fucked up then. Ruben-"

"But that doesn't change the fact you admitted you had feelings for her. Danny I have to know what that's about."

He haunched back on his heels. "Okay." Sliding his hand up and down his thighs a few times first, he shifted into sitting cross legged on the floor in front of her. "It's so complicated, Lindsay. I'm not even sure I can explain it without you hating me."

"Try"

He rested his forearms on his knees and nodded. "Okay. Well, for starters, I felt her grief when Ruben died. I felt her emotional outpouring and it matched mine. And I felt with her what …" His shoulders hunched as he stared at the floor. "What I couldn't feel with you when you didn't come around after I left you in the morgue … and … and that made me angry."

"With me?"

Then he looked at her, at the tears building in her eyes and said it anyway. "Yeah, with you."

She swiped at the tears. "But if you'd just called me," then gripped her hands tighter around her knees, "if you'd just talked to me."

"I know, I know, but it wasn't just you I was angry with. I was angry with myself that Ruben's death had even happened, angry that I had to watch Rikki grieve, angry that I couldn't have prevented it, angry that I couldn't fix any of it – even though I tried." His hands began to gesture wildly. "And, and, and when you confronted me and told me you loved me, but that you had to find a way to let go I became even angrier."

"So when we talked in the locker room …"

"So when we talked in the locker room, my anger was so- so- … basically I had given up that I could ever right things between us, so I tried to give you what you wanted." He shifted onto his knees, palming her knees. "I'm sorry Lindsay that I hurt you like that but as much as it hurt, I knew it would give you a way to let go."

"But I didn't want to let go … not really, I just wanted to jar you, bring you back, you were so far away from me-"

"Like I said I was completely fucked up. And all I can say now is, once I've met with Rikki, I want to put this behind us. Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me for, for completely-"

"Yeah, yeah I think I can." She wrapped her hands into his, her voice soft, "I mean I want to. But I can't promise – I'll just have to keep working on it."

Pulling her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin, he said. "_We'll _have to keep working on it."

--

She was tucked into the corner booth, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, eyes lost to it contents. He slid into the booth without a word. She looked up, barely a smile, but a slight glimmer in her eyes – not the full dancing glimmer that had been there the morning he'd left with Ruben for the Blessing of the Bikes but still, a hint. And suddenly he felt lighter, felt good that he'd made the decision to meet her.

"I'm glad you called," she said then took a sip of her tea, eyes watching him above the rim.

"Yeah, yeah, it feels … right … to see you again." He shifted forward, forearms on the table.

She replaced the cup on the saucer. "So …"

"So I was just, you know, wondering how you've been doing."

"Good, I guess. I, umm, moved in with a friend when I moved out of the apartment."

"Someone you can talk to, you know lean on if-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's been a great arrangement. I can't complain. Certainly helps with the bills." She traced the rim of her cup with a finger. "But what about you?"

"Things are good, work is busy."

"And Lindsay?"

"She's great. Took a new job with the University."

"Are you guys together?"

"Yeah, we are. It's been tough but we've really worked through a lot. I think we're gonna make it."

Finally a full-on smile crossed her face. "I'm glad because I never meant to come between you two."

"No, no, no that wasn't you. If I'd been thinking straight I would have been a better friend to you, a better boyfriend to her, not taken advantage of the situation and-"

"Danny, you didn't-"

"Rikki, I did. I knew better but I let a lot of other emotions cloud my judgment."

"Stop … I think we were both guilty of that."

"Yeah, but I hurt Lindsay really bad and ... and … part of me still can't believe that I did it."

"Yeah, but you've worked through it and now you're together."

Her fingertips pressed against her eyes and he grabbed one of her hands as she dropped it. "I'm sorry, Rikki, so sorry about Ruben, that you lost him and now-"

"No, Danny, it's okay, really." She tried to tug her hand away but he held fast.

"But it must be hard at times, still."

"Yeah, but …" And this time she managed to pull her hand free as she slid from the booth and stood, pulling her purse strap to her shoulder.

He stood too. "I'm sorry, I upset you, I'm sorry." He gestured to the booth. "Sit down, let's talk this through."

Another finger press to the eyes, her breath long on the inhale then quick on the exhale as she dropped her hands and wrapped her fingers around the purse strap. "Danny, it was good to see you, really. And I'm glad you're doing well. But I need to go-"

"Wait." He stepped in front of her, she halted. "Please, I can't imagine leaving it like this."

"Danny, you're not leaving it like this." Her hands wrung the purse strap. "I'm leaving it like this."

"But why?"

"Because …" She loosened her grip on the strap, one hand palming his cheek as she answered softly, "because it's all I can handle at the moment." Then she dropped her hand and took a step back. "Please understand."

He nodded then stepped aside. She passed without another glance at him, he knew it, because he turned and watched her until she was out of sight.

And the light feeling evaporated.

--

She watched the subway exit, had watched it for the last half hour. He'd said he'd come by as soon as he had finished meeting with Rikki. Rikki. The name whether said aloud or imaged in thought still sent a tremor of insecurity through her. She knew what he'd said, that it was over, that he was with her now, that he loved her but … but … and then she saw him, striding up the stairs of the subway exit but instead of angling towards her building, he strode straight ahead, shoulders hunched, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. She ran to the next window, eyes following him as he continued down the street and entered a store near the corner … the hardware store.

She watched again until a few minutes later he emerged, shoulders still hunched and hands still crammed deep in his pockets. She couldn't read his expression as he glanced right then left and angled across the street to her building, his stride as resolute as before. And then he was buzzing.

"Montana, it's me."

She buzzed him through and he must have double timed the steps for she'd barely unlocked the door than he was through it and she was in his arms.

"Danny," she said in breathy surprise. But that's all she could say as his lips captured hers, one hand tangled in her hair and the other traveled downward, hoisting one leg around his waist, the other she managed on her own as he carried her to the bedroom and rolled them onto the bed.

She knew his need in this moment, his need for movement, for release but also his need for closeness and reassurance too. So her hands roamed in sensual confidence, her lips encouraged an already raging fire, all questions tossed aside as clothes were barely pushed aside, him inside her in moments, her desire no less than his as they furiously peaked together then slid to a shuddering halt on the other side, panting, sweating, clothes twisted, legs tangling, arms wrapping tightly around each other, his face buried in her neck, his tears – so rare – trickling across her shoulder and onto the pillow, her hand stoking the back of head until he fell asleep and then she slept too.

When she awoke hours later, the moon had risen above the neighboring buildings, full and luscious, the skewed rectangle of light circumscribed about his shadow as he stood at the window.

She went to him, standing just behind him but not touching him, and he reached almost instantaneously behind him, an arm snaking around her waist as if he had sensed exactly where she stood. His hands ran restlessly up and down her arms then settled on her shoulders as he spoke.

"I don't think she'll ever get over it."

His forehead rested against hers as a thumb stroked her neck. She touched her lips gently to his and said, "Not completely, but time will dull the pain, fade the hurt …"

He pulled back, staring her full in the face, "Is that how it is for you, I mean, with the death of your friends?"

"Yeah it is."

"I can't fix it for her."

"No, you can't." Her hands rested at his waist, thumbs hooking through the belt loops of his jeans. "The only demons one can exorcise are their own." His sigh was deep, and her weight shifted from foot to foot as the question hammered in her head until she had no choice but to ask it. "Do you think you can let it go … let, let her go?"

"I'm trying Linds. I mean I want to. But I just have to keep working on it."

Her hands dropped from his waist and she ducked out of his arms, turning into the moonlight, her arms cloistering about her body. He stepped close to her, his breath whispering across her ear, "I mean _we'll _have to keep working on it, right?" And his hand appeared in front of her face, a key, held between his thumb and forefinger, catching the moonlight as he pulled her hand upwards, placing it into the palm of her hand, closing her fingers around it as his arms slid around her waist their hands intertwined at her waist.

"A key?"

"Yeah."

"To … your place?"

"No … to our place."

"You mean you want me to move into your place with you?"

"No"

"What-"

He turned her in his arms. "I'm talking about our place. A place, we find together, for us."

"But?"

"That's not what you want?"

"Oh no, it is what I want it's just that I never dreamed that you'd be ready-"

"Lindsay, if we're gonna work this out, be there for each other, then we have to be together, right? And with two places and two different jobs, it's gonna be tough but with a place to-"

Her arms slid around his waist and she laid her cheek against his chest. "You're right."

His chest rumbled in her ear as he rested his chin on her head. "I am?"

"You are."

--

**A/N: Thanks for reading. It's been a journey and I appreciate all the support throughout.**


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